


Red Revolution: Metamorphosis

by Nilsine



Series: Red Revolution [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Betrayal, Bigotry & Prejudice, Biopunk, Blessed with suck, Bromance, Brother-Sister Relationships, Child Soldiers, Chilly Reception, Conspiracy, Dark Comedy, F/M, Fem! Cloud, Foe Yay, Identity Issues, Memories, Moral Ambiguity, Organized Crime, Orphans, Past Underage, Prodigies, Reluctant Sadist, Secrets, Slow Build, Spies & Secret Agents, Step-siblings, genderbender, sort of...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilsine/pseuds/Nilsine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you turn 16, wouldn't you just expect a car or a wad of money? Instead, what if you find out you are a living weapon with strange abilities and killer instincts? Cool, right? Unfortunately for Cloud, he quickly discovers that it totally sucks... especially since his parents have died because of it, a dead person is talking to him, a criminal organization is hot on his heels... and he's suddenly able to disguise himself as a girl!?</p><p>Previously displayed on Fanfiction.net... with the exception of a few edits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A sketchy prologue

It was a macabre and yet peculiar sight. 

The study wasn’t empty, but it was deathly quiet. The three men (two scientists and a businessman) stood around, watching as the woman knelt over a female corpse. The men watched with sheer horror and confusion on their faces. The woman, however, calmly stretched out her hand and closed the corpse’s eyes, freshly glazed over. 

The body was exactly as the men had found it: lying on its back, legs sprawled on the stone-tiled floor, and arms limp, and a gun clutched tightly in its left hand. The woman felt through the body’s hair, long and fair but tainted with blood. The head was tilted slightly in a pool of the sticky substance, and the face had a solemn smile, as if this person was unwavering to the very end. 

The businessman pulled out a cell-phone and flipped it open. The woman stood up in a flash and snatched it from his hand. 

“Don’t you dare!” she snarled. 

“But Madame,” he protested. “If we don’t tell them…” 

“We tell them nothing! **Nothing** will happen to us if we say absolutely **nothing**!” 

The Madame tossed the cell onto the ground and kicked it across the room. The scientists watched in surprise but didn’t speak up. She stared them all in the eye. 

“One of you close the door,” she commanded. “Now!” 

The younger of the scientists bowed his head and went for the door. The Madame waited until the door was completely shut before she continued. He stood by, listening for any approaching steps. 

“Nicoli is still missing,” she said in a firm voice. “Remember that. He has disappeared and he continues to keep his whereabouts unknown. Are we clear on that?” 

“So we lie?” asked the older scientist. “If they find out, we’ll all be…” 

The Madame rose up over the older scientist, and he shut his mouth. “Dr. Hojo…do I like a fool to you?” 

“N-no, Madame, but…” 

“But what?” 

Her eyes shot him with a menacing glare, so strong that he couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. The businessman became brave enough to speak again. 

“But how will we make them believe us?” he mused. “They won’t just take our word for it.” 

“It has already been taken care of,” the Madame replied. “This was all planned…and I’m ashamed to say this, but: not by me. If we play are cards right, everything will be in our favor…we can break out of this…” 

“For what reason?” Hojo questioned. “Why do we…?” 

“Take a guess… Think hard. You know why.” 

Hojo pinched the bridge of his nose and adjusted his glasses. The businessman shrugged his shoulders and submitted himself to the Madame’s decision. The unnamed scientist remained silent, as if he were indifferent. 

“Now that we all somewhat agree,” the Madame said, “We have one more problem.” 

“And that is?” the businessman asked. 

“Who will take care of the next Nicoli?” 

The room grew quiet again, and the young scientist finally raised his head. No one said a word. The Madame examined all of their face, stopping her eyes on each of them for a moment before going onto the next. Over and over again. 

“If you think that I’m doing it, you’re insane!” Hojo shouted. “I already have a son! And a wife! I will not risk their lives for this…this…madness!” 

“And I don’t expect you to,” the Madame answered. “You bloody coward.” 

The older scientist turned away, but too afraid bite back. The businessman knew that he was next for the picking. 

“I can do it,” he said. “But I can’t guarantee complete safety. I am a public person, so it might be noticed.” 

“What about your son?” the Madame questioned. “Isn’t he desperate for children?” 

He frowned and shook his head. “Rufus would never go through with it. He has already made it clear… that he doesn’t want…those kinds of people in his house. Infancy would be no excuse for him…” 

“That saddens me,” the Madame murmured. “So… are you willing to take care of him?” 

As the businessman fumbled for an answer, a new voice shattered the atmosphere. 

“I can do it…” 

The younger scientist stood in front of the closed doorway, meek but serious. Everyone looked upon this quiet man in shock, including the Madame herself. When all of the eyes were fixed on him, he shrank for a moment and lost confidence. But he rose back up, despite himself, and nodded with determination. 

“I can do it,” he repeated. “No one notices me.” 

Dr. Hojo grunted and intervened. “Don’t pay attention him any mind. He’s a novice. He shouldn’t even be here!” 

The Madame ignored him. She scanned this man closely from head to toe. He looked perfectly ordinary; he wasn’t very tall but he was lean. His eyes looked sharp and youthful, but they held a hint of uncertainty all same time. He carried himself in a tidy but non-excessive way; it showed in his hair and clothes. The Madame smiled with approval. 

“As for the rest of you,” she declared, “You already know what to do.” 

The older men bowed their heads and found their own way out of the room. As Hojo passed through the door, he gave his subordinate a scornful glare and snorted. 

The Madame returned to the body and fell down on her knees again. She reached out to touch the body’s face and sighed. 

“Oh, Nicky…” she whispered. 

“You can catch a disease that way,” the young scientist warned. 

Her eyes shot up towards him, and he was sure that he had said something wrong. She opened her mouth, and he winced. 

“Forgive me, but I can’t remember your name.” 

“S-strife. Jiro Strife…Madame…” 

“And how long have you been with us?” 

“Six years…since 2012.” 

The Madame stood up and straightened the shirt of her dress. 

“I suppose you think I’m going to ask **why** you stepped up to the plate,” she assumed. 

“Yes, Madame. 

She smiled devilishly and walked towards him, tossing her hair back. Jiro gulped, and she leaned into his personal space . 

“Well, you’re wrong,” she murmured in his ear. 

The Madame strolled casually away towards the door and opened it. 

“Just do a good job.” 

The door was shut, and Jiro was left alone, waiting for the clean-up crew to arrive

\----------  

On the following morning, Dr. Hojo entered the lab and came upon an unpleasant surprise. The project that he was supposedly the head of had already begun without him. The body already lay naked in a cylindrical tube, cleaned and carefully preserved. Everything was prepared. The computers were finished warming up. All of the lab personnel, including minor scientists, were ready to go—masks, rubber gloves, goggles and all. 

And Dr. Strife was about to give his next orders. 

“What on earth is going on here?!” Hojo shouted. 

The whole company turned to face him in silence. Many of the personnel pressed their lips together, trying to hold something back. Hojo pointed an accusing finger at Jiro. 

“What do you think **you’re** doing?” 

“I’m… I’m just doing as I’m told,” Jiro replied nervously. “Didn’t the Madame tell you?” 

Hojo mustered up the strength to bellow at him, but another voice of authority interrupted. 

“I have given Dr. Strife full charge over this project.” 

Hojo felt the rims of his eyes widen under his glasses. The Madame leaned on the doorway and watched the entire spectacle with a sadistic pleasure. He swerved around to face her, mortified and bewildered. 

“This must be a joke!” he retorted. “I am the head of this lab!” 

“Don’t worry,” the Madame answered snidely. “You can still keep your job. Think of this…as a vacation opportunity.” 

She sneered at him, turned her back on him, and slithered out of the lab. Hojo gritted his teeth in anger. 

“Dr. Hojo,” Jiro whispered. 

Hojo glared dangerously at him through his glasses. In a huff, the furious older scientist was gone. In the background, a dark cloud was washed away by a cheerful morale, and the personnel burst into tearful laughter. 

And Jiro stood, completely overwhelmed amongst them. 

\-----------

Time simply wore on. Days to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. When a long period of time goes by, there are too many trials, too many incidents, and too many memories to recite all at one. Yet, even the little, fleeting moments will stand out. 

Among the scores of recollections, there was a bathroom. And an unusual bathroom it was. The floor tiles were black and white checkers, and walls were pure white, giving off a clean, yet eerie feel. The walls were decorated eclectically with a few large, Chinese fans, framed Japanese murals, a couple of tasteful European paintings. There was a small, terra-cotta soldier on the sink counter. The bathtub was built into the floor. 

All of this came from the eccentric whims of the woman of the house. 

This particular woman was bathing quietly with her son in mild bath salts. Her blond hair was well pinned up, with Chinese chopsticks. The boy, around seven years, pressed his cheek against the tub’s ledge. His mother watched in fascination. 

“When is Papa coming home again?” the boy asked. 

“On Friday,” the mother replied patiently. 

She reached down and ran her fingers threw his slightly damp hair. 

After almost a decade with the boy, this mother still had yet to understand him. He was an odd child. Even then, as he laid his head on the floor, he was thinking about something without telling her what it was. Physically, he was born with many of her features: blonde hair, pale skin, and a glowing smile. His father’s eyes were his. But the way his hair grew, spiky and unruly as all get up, was still a mystery.

“Why does Aunt Lucrecia hate me?”

The mother sat upright in the bathtub. The boy stared at his mother with curious eyes. She saw bit of soap on his back and gently scooped water to wash it off.

“She doesn’t hate you,” she answered. “She just…doesn’t know how deal with you yet.”

“Why?”

The mother stretched out her arms and drew her son into a hug. He saw melancholy in her eyes.

“You’ll understand when you get older.”

The boy rested his head against his mother’s chest and felt the rhythm of her heartbeat.

“Maybe she’s jealous,” the boy proposed.

“And why would that be?” she asked.

“Because Scarlet came out rotten, and I didn’t.”

The mother gave her son a stern look.

“Don’t say things like that...that was very crude!”

The boy moaned in protest. She pushed his head off of her chest and made sure that they had eye contact.

“I won’t ask you to get along with her,” she said. “But whatever she does, whatever she says to you, I want you act like a gentleman.”

“I don’t feel like being one when I’m around her,” he muttered in contempt.

“I didn’t say you had to be ‘whitewash polite’.” 

The boy cocked his to the side and raised his eyebrows, not quite understanding. 

“If you want to effectively defeat your enemy,” the mother advised wisely, “You must fight cleverly and tactically. Turn the tables. Rushing at her head-on hasn’t helped, has it?” 

“But what if Scarlet says something mean?” 

“Do nothing but smile. That is the true meaning of gentleman: being able to do everything in style and class, whether it’s cooking, dining, being polite… or matching wits with your awful cousin. Trust me. If you do as I say, she’ll end being the villain instead of you.” 

The boy frowned and started thinking again. 

“What does crude mean?” he asked. 

“Indecent, vulgar, ungentlemanly,” she explained. 

The boy became silent and rested his head, back on her chest. The mother leaned back, and some stray hair fell out off the bun and clung to her soaked back. There was a window a few feet away from the bathtub, overlooking the field, just outside of London’s boundaries. There was a set of train tracks, and train had already passed, but it left no smoke behind. 

“I wish Papa was here,” he said quietly. 

The mother squeezed her son tight and sighed. He smelled like her…like bath salts. 

“Ah… me too.”  


	2. Awakening - Chapter One: The many eyes

_The sky is grey, so grey. It’s quiet, too quiet._

_The country road winds through the pine forest, going towards the west. The forest is standing still, and a fairly strong wind brushes past the trees. The air is freezing, and it’s just begun to snow, speckling ground with thin, ashy silver._

_I find myself walking alone in this forest, with no idea of why or how I got there in the first place. I’m unsure of where I’m going, but I’m drawn forward anyhow. I’m wearing a long, black coat that I don’t even recognize._

_As I walk deeper and deeper into the forest, I hear a booming, roar in the distance. The smell of smoke and other awful putridness pollute the air. I feel uneasy, but nevertheless, I keep going. The smell becomes stronger, and the sound becomes louder. The air becomes hotter._

_My feet carry me onward._

_Along the path, a tree has been brutally torn down, and it’s in flames. Underneath it is an army jeep, crushed on impact. Some of the surrounding trees are catching fire too, and the heat becomes intimidating. Further down the road, there are more jeeps, overturned, flipped on their side, or standing on their tires. There…there are dead, uniformed corpses—scattered on the ground or sitting in some of the jeeps._

_I feel dizzy from the smoke and try to leave, but my body won’t move anymore._

_Among the wreckage, a lone figure stands, not far away. The smoke is distorting everything, so I squint my eyes, trying to see it clearly._

_It’s a woman. A harmless looking woman. Her back’s to me, and she stands aimlessly in the wreckage and disaster. As I keep looking, I see a large gun slung over her shoulder. It’s still smoking from use._

_I don’t know why, but I know she did this. All of this! But, the idea of **her** being the cause of all this is ridiculous! It’s too ineffective as a weapon…and she’s too small of a woman! But as she turns around and finally sees me, the hard, glowing stare in her eyes makes me believe it all the more._

_She walks toward me and drops her gun on the ground. I see more of her features. She’s a blonde, with slightly darker than mine, and her eyes are deep, red hazel. She’s a tad shorter than me, perhaps five feet and five inches. Her warm winter clothing hides her frame. Her hair mingles with the wind._

_And we stand face to face. Neither can look down on the other. She simply stands before me with a blank expression on her face. She seems to be expecting something of me._

_“W-who are you?” I ask._

_The woman smiles and comes closer. I stagger forward; the smoke has completely gotten to me. She reaches out, catches me, and gently wraps her arms around me. She rests her chin on my shoulder and whispers her answer:_

_“What are you talking about? Whatever could you mean by that?”_

 

\----------

  

My parents died in an accident. That’s what I was told. 

When I was in the eleventh grade, I never thought that I’d be an orphan. No one does. You’d expect to spend the rest of your childhood with your parents, and those who don’t are _other people_.  

But just imagine, for a moment, if you are that other person. For a certain number of years, you’ve relied on your parents, rolled your eyes at their lectures, and longed for the day when you could move out and gain independence. But when they’re gone too soon, you wish they’d at least be there to nag you. 

My family had moved back to Cape Town at the time, and I was three months from finishing my first year at a London boarding school. When _they_ came for me, I was told that boarding school was no longer for me, and in time… neither would my beloved hometown. 

Marlene and I had different reactions. As she watched the coffins sink to the ground, she got it straight in her four-year-old mind that Mum and Dad weren’t coming back. It didn’t stop her from balling her eyes out… but she knew. 

But it wasn’t real to me, like I was in some sort of bizarre dream. It took me two months to come out of it and finally have a good cry. 

The next thing I knew, every relative I ever met (and then some) wanted to take custody of Marlene and me…or simply, just me. My parents’ lawyer put a stop to the silly, month-long war by pulling out a well planned will; though I wonder why the reading of it was delayed for so long. 

In the will, there was an unfamiliar name typed on the paper: 

_Jenova di Luciano_  

I stared hard at my relatives and didn’t complain. 

The will gave an odd set of instructions. First, I would be moving to a house in a location of my new guardian’s choosing; someone would be there to watch over me. Second, she would pay for all of my expenses. Third, I was to take a GED and go straight to college during the next semester, even though I had already skipped two grades. Fourth, I was forced to continue dance classes; this proved once and for all that even in death, my parents would always be there to get on my case… which was strangely comforting. Last and definitely not the least, all of my parents’ money, savings, and belongings were to be relocated in my new home and my new personal accounts. 

Take that, Aunt Lucrecia. 

\---------

 

Four months, a driver’s license, and a GED later, I wake up from a nap . After a moment of looking around, I remember that I’m in a first-class seat, on a plane bound for New Jersey. Marlene sits beside me in deep sleep, well adjusted to what her new life has to offer her. 

I wonder silently if she prefers Neiman Marcus to Nordstrom and pasta Bolognese to spaghetti. 

There are hardly any people in this section. Most of the windows are covered, and some of the people are sleeping. Others take advantage of the innovations of technology and speak in hushed tones on their cell-phones. A businessman or three are still hard at work on their laptops, probably checking to see how their stocks are fairing in the market. Two of them are frowning, but the third man is excited. A woman is watching a movie on her little screen. 

In the corner of my eye, I could swear that someone is staring at me. After my parents’ death, I’ve more alert…and in my view, a bit paranoid. 

The pilot turns on the speaker and speaks to the passengers. Marlene wakes up irritated and stretches with a yawn. 

“Are we there yet?” Marlene asks hopefully. 

“Almost, sweet love,” I answer. 

Marlene frowns skeptically but relaxes back into her chair. 

“How much is almost?” she asks. 

“Forty-five minutes.” 

Marlene pushes out her bottom lip and pouts in disappointment. 

“But my bum’s gone to sleep!” she complains. “Why can’t they make the plan go faster?” 

I shake my head and smile. At five, Marlene is such a smart character. But she looks to me for every possible solution. It’s been that way for the past five months. 

I look around first-class once more. Someone is definitely staring at me. I take my eyes away, pretending not to notice, but gain the knowledge I need. 

From just one glance, I know very much…to my own surprise.  It’s a woman. A woman with dark, red hair. It has to be dyed because she’s Asian. I guess that she’s probably Japanese because Chinese or Korean woman tend to have more delicate features.  

I’m scaring myself…knowing so much in mere seconds. I need to get away. 

“Walk the aisles with me?” I suggest. 

Marlene seems pleased with the idea and fumbles to loosen her seat buckle . I click mine open first before leaning over to help her. Scarcely after she’s set free, she slides out of her seat and darts into business class without me. I run to catch up with her, and as I go, I feel the woman’s eyes follow me all the way. 

Marlene soothes her aching backside by massaging it with the palm of her hand and fingers.

“No rubbing in public,” I scold. 

Marlene obeys, but not without the snide remark of, “You sound like Mum!” 

I glare burning holes into the back of her head. Not that I have anything against _my_ mother, but being compared to anything feminine always offends me. Unfortunately, this is common, and many have teased that I have enough beautiful looks to pass off for a girl. 

“A strange lady was staring at you,” Marlene comments. 

“You noticed too?” I inquire. 

Marlene turns her little head and gives me a sly smile. What for, I don’t understand. 

“What?” I ask. 

“She probably thinks you’re cute,” Marlene teases. 

“That’s not funny.” 

“But she was smiling at you…” 

“She’s older than me, sweet love. She’s probably an adult, and I’m still a child. Like you.” 

“Love has no boundaries!” 

On impulse, I kneel down and swoop her into my arms. She squeals in delight. Business class is giving us irritated looks, so I move forward to economy class. 

“Have you been watching romance movies behind my back again?” I ask. 

Marlene nods and wraps her arms around my neck. She rests her head against my chest and snuggles me. God bless her little heart.

 

\---------

 

An hour later, the plane pulls up at the Newark Airport, and everyone piles out in a hurry. 

Outside the hallway, the terminal’s packed.  Marlene is bright enough to grab my hand before we step out. From my instructions back in Cape Town, I should be meeting someone right now. No one is waving at me or trying to gain my attention. No one’s holding a sign with my name on it. It doesn’t help that I’m not very tall. Every seat’s occupied, so I’m left walking, waiting, looking, and waiting some more. But something doesn’t feel right. 

“Maybe they’re late,” Marlene says. 

“Not likely,” I reply. “Not when they can book first-class seats.” 

I’m getting that feeling again, like someone has their eyes on me. Something’s definitely not right. I look more carefully this time, sweeping my gaze on the sitting area like a broom. As I do, several eyes are fixed on me from different angles; they avert from me whenever I notice them. 

They all look like perfectly normal people, all from different nationalities. Caucasian…American…Asian… 

I turn my head, slightly, and look behind me. There she is—that Asian woman who was eyeing me on the plane. She fastens on her lightweight coat, straightens out the strap of her purse, all the while staring at me ever so subtly. 

I don’t know why I’m seeing these things. This never happened to me before in my entire life. All these eyes. All these questioning, suspicious looking eyes. 

Something in my gut’s telling me that I’m in a deep, dark hole. And I need a freaking ladder. 

I squeeze my sister’s hand, trying to think…for the both of us. Marlene looks me in the face, and she feels that something’s wrong. We know each other that well. 

I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know if I should be worried. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and my body jumps. I turn around, and there she is: that woman. She has a warm smile on her face and an apologetic gleam in her eye. 

She opens her mouth, intending to speak to me, but she hesitates a few times before the timid words come out. 

“Um, hello…I…I…” 

“Hi,” I answer. And quite reluctantly. 

The woman seems anxious somehow, and her eyes dart in different places. She focuses on Marlene. 

“You have a pretty little sister,” she compliments. 

She leans over and gently combs her fingers through Marlene’s hair. Marlene likes the attention and blushes. 

Like any normal person, you’d be just fine with this. But no. Not me. I get all the more agitated. There’s something about this woman that puts me off… 

Though, I will admit that she’s rather pretty. 

She reaches out her hand and offers a handshake. 

“I am Momomi,” she says, with a hopeful look in her eye. “Momomi Yukimura.” 

I take her hand unwillingly and exchange a good, thorough handshake. She seems to be waiting for something. I make sure not to give her my name. 

“Momomi-san?” I repeat curiously. 

“Yes!” she cries. “Momomi…does that…remind you of anything?” 

In my mind, a voice screams at me, telling me to leave. 

“No, it doesn’t,” I reply. “Sorry, I think you might have me confused with someone else.” 

“That’s not possible,” she protests softly. “It’s no mistake. I know we both look different…but you walk the same way…you talk the same way…you even wear your hair the same way!” 

I feel myself back up. What is this woman spouting!? Is she crazy!? Is she some sort of stalker!? 

Before, I know it, her hand’s caressing my cheek. I am severely creeped out. 

“It’s fine if you don’t remember yet,” she continues. “I can wait a bit longer…” 

I put my hand on hers and pry it away from my face. 

“Riiiiiiiiight,” I reply, rather sarcastically. “Listen, my sister and I need to catch a car home, so we have to go.” 

I don’t wait for a response. I sweep Marlene into my arms, and dash into the crowd ahead. Behind me, I hear the woman’s pleading voice, begging me to wait. Marlene holds on tight. 

As I mix into the crowd, I take a quick glance back, and the eyes are following me. Now I know how the characters in spy movies feel. 

But at least _those_ people know where to go. 

**_“Head for the baggage claim!” a voice tells me._**  

I’m not sure if it’s the voice in my head or a direct command from something else. But I’m not picky at the moment. 

I weave through the crowd, trying to lose the slowly advancing faces. I fight my way to the door and enter the baggage claim. Traffic through the door is intolerably slow. 

We have no baggage to claim. The exit’s several yards away. I’m off like a shot. Marlene pokes her head over my shoulder and begins whimper. 

The doors swing open, and I end on the sidewalk. Cars, buses, and limos are everywhere. I start fast walking along the sidewalk, taking brief, backwards glance at any chance I can. Some of the eyes are still following me. They’re far, but they’re there. 

“Why are those people following us?” Marlene asked. 

“Don’t stare!” I snap. 

Several steps later, the door to a limo pops open right in front of us. A man pokes his head out and calls out to us. I stop, but I’m not trusting. 

“You’re name’s ‘Cloud’, right?” he asks. 

I feel a prickle go down spine. 

“Friend or foe?” I mutter (without thinking). 

The man chuckles in amusement. 

“Does ‘Jenova di Luciano’ ring a bell?” he replies. “I’m a **friend**.” 

The eyes are getting closer, so I hop inside the limo to join him. The door shuts behind me like an automatic machine. The man gives instructions to the driver, and as I buckle Marlene’s seatbelt, the limo drives out of the airport. 

I climb to the back window. A group of men and women stop in a small group and watch us as we go. Our rescuer joins me and looks on. Marlene blows a raspberry at the window.

“They sure are discreet,” he says dryly. 

“But who the bloody hell are they?” I ask. 

“Don’t worry. They’re nothing…” 

I took a long look at our alleged rescuer as he continues to observe through the window. There’s something a little familiar about him, but I can’t put my finger on it. 

He has to be taller than me, which is not saying much. His hair is long and silver, or platinum blonde (I’m not sure which). His skin is pale, much like mine. His eyes, a striking shade of green, were remarkably feline. 

He sighs in relief and gives me an endearing grin. It makes me relax instantly. He reaches for a handshake, and I’m very willing. 

“Who exactly are you?” I ask. 

“I go by Sephiroth Skandon,” he says. “It’s a mouthful, but you’ll get used to it.”  

I realize that we’re still shaking hands. I like his hand. 

“Have we met?” I ask. 

His eyes widen, and he pulls away. 

“No,” he answers briefly. “But I have met your father. The doctor, right?” 

“Yes.” 

Sephiroth scoots away, putting more distance between us. 

The limo is generously large, enough to seat eight people in the back. On the ceiling of the car, the lights periodically change into different colors, and Marlene becomes engrossed in it, forgetting anything and everything that happened at the airport.  

“What a crying shame,” he mumbles. “Your parents, I mean…” 

I feel a slight wrench in my chest, and I respond with a weak nod. It’s the same feeling I got it when they told me about the accident. 

But it doesn’t last long. My mood’s brought right out of the trenches when I feel my stomach growl. It’s embarrassing loud, for most people, but I just find it annoying. Sephiroth stares in disbelief. 

“Hungry?” he questions. 

“We’re starving!” Marlene complains. 

“A fast food place will do,” I chime in. 

Sephiroth laughs and gives the driver new instructions.

 

\---------

 

A half-hour later, the three of us are sitting in a booth at a rather unusual McDonald’s. From the tiles on the floor to the moldings at the corner of the ceiling, the entire restaurant is modeled after a 20th century home. The tables, probably plastic or cheap wood, look very old-fashioned. Near the register, there’s a china cabinet with McDonald’s merchandise and memorabilia. Even the ceiling’s decked out with plastic chandeliers and fake, electric candles. 

I find the place ridiculously droll. Maybe I’ll come back some time. 

“Sorry, I can’t keep calling you Sephiroth,” I argue. “Do you have a nickname?” 

“None that I’d want you to call me,” he answers. 

Curiosity overtakes me, and I lean closer. I know there’s an evil grin on my face because he’s leaning further back into his chair. 

“And what are those?” I ask. 

Sephiroth huffs quietly and rattles them off. 

“My step-sister, Lucy, calls me Seph-kun or ‘moron’…depending on her mood…my friends call me Seph…and the Madame calls me ‘Kitten’ because of my eyes…” 

Moron was funny, but Kitten forces me to suck in my lips. Marlene laughs anyway, annoying a couple of grouches in nearby booths. 

But then it occurs to me: who’s the Madame? 

While Sephiroth and Marlene recovering, I see a group of noisy teenagers, sitting close by in a large corner booth. At first glance, most of them look like normal hooligans, until I notice their nice clothes. 

They’re the rich type of troublemakers, and they’re not the first that I’ve seen; it’s a common sight in a London boarding school. 

And they’re staring at **me** too. 

I seem to be quite popular today. 

Or infamous at least, because these guys seem to be giving me the evil eye. One of the girls in the group seems out of place and keeps to herself. 

“Why do you think those people were following us?” I say. “They didn’t look like thugs, and I know I have nothing they want. I don’t even understand why I was scared of them—” 

“Forget about it,” Sephiroth interrupts. “They were harmless.” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“They were company spies…they were just checking you out…not to worry.” 

“Spies?!” Marlene cried with glee. “You mean like in the movies?” 

Sephiroth nods and Marlene bounces up and down in her chair. 

“I’m not some big business hotshot,” I argue. “I’m just an orphan from South Africa…” 

“Not anymore, kid…you belong to the Madame…” 

“My mother is not a billy goat,” I reply. “And **who** is that?” 

“Jenova prefers to be called the Madame. She’s…a business tycoon…so to speak…” 

“And that has to do with me because…?” 

Our order number is called out. Sephiroth starts to get up. 

“Let’s just say that the Madame has high hopes for you,” he replies. “And the competition is having a hissy fit about it.” 

I stand up quickly before he can. 

“I’ll get it,” I say calmly (or maybe not). 

He shrugs and lets me walk away. 

That’s a lot to hear in just a few sentences. “The Madame?” “High hopes?” “Business tycoon?” “A hissy fit?” No one mentioned this after the will was read. 

Just what am I getting into? 

As soon as I get to the counter, the server slides the tray to edge so I can reach it. There it is: a Happy meal for my sweet love, a pounder and large fry for Sephiroth, and for me… two double cheeses, one super sized fry, and an apple pie. 

I think I’m going to have a foodgasm. 

I turn around, take a few steps forward, and someone runs into me. Hard. I lose balance and everything drops to the floor. I bend down to salvage some of the food, and most of it’s still sealed in paper. But Marlene’s Happy Meal is completely ruined. 

A pair of feet comes into view, and I look up to see the leader of that group, staring down at me with a smug look on his face. 

“Sorry. You should watch were you’re going, Spiky,” he mocks. 

Spiky? I’ve been called Baby-face…Nest-head…David Bowie’s Reject… But Spiky? Come on!  If I’m going be insulted by this schmuck, he could at least think of something more creative. 

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. It’s not a sincere apology. 

“I didn’t hear that,” he sneered. “Say it louder.” 

I am pissed. That’s understandable, right? By now, I see Sephiroth coming to solve the mess, but I don’t feel like being helped. I can’t explain it. I’m used to this sort of thing, and I sometimes let is slide, but this was different. I know the bloke’s looking down at me, but that’s not why I’m angry. This time, someone was taunting me…and I actually felt that they were dirt below my feet. 

I notice the toy that came with Marlene’s Happy Meal: a hard plastic toy. Before I know what I’m doing, my hand reaches out and grabs it. I look the scum directly in the eye. My hand squeezes hard on the toy, and I feel it break apart in my hands. Loose parts fall to the floor. The guy’s not smiling anymore. Sephiroth stops dead and grins wildly. 

The idiot backs away, slightly, with a look of stupefied horror on his face. I gather up Marlene’s dirtied chicken nuggets and french fries and put them into the Happy Meal Box. I stand up and shove it into his arms. 

What a wuss. 

“That was my little sister’s,” I reply harshly. “Buy her another one.” 

I feel myself simmering down, and I give him a friendly smile. 

“Please?” I ask. 

The guy’s head moves up and down like a bobble-head figurine. I bend down I pick up the tray, with all the food that could be eaten. His head nods faster, and I walk past him, satisfied. 

But then I hear him mumble something I really don’t like: 

“Freak.” 

My body swerves and immediately responds: 

“Did you say something? I didn’t quite _hear_ that…” 

His back tenses, and he rushes to the counter. I walk away, even more content than ever, and Sephiroth is clapping his hands. Marlene’s poking her little head from the booth.  

“You made my day,” Sephiroth says. “So…how do you feel?” 

“Great.” 

And honestly, yes I do. After years of taking it from bullies, I had just cracked for the first time. Bloody Mary, do I feel good! 

Sephiroth leads me back to the table, patting me on the back all the way. 

“That was the most frightening death glare I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he says. 

“I beg your pardon?” I reply. 

“You gave him the death glare,” Sephiroth informs. 

I laugh at the thought and sit down. I do feel a little guilty, though. I don’t usually act that way. I consider apologizing, but then again, I don’t feel _that_ sorry. I look back to see if the guy’s getting the rest of our order. Sure enough, he’s nervously handling it and about to leave the counter. 

Among the rich hooligans, who are now in absolute fear of me, the girl leaves the table. She works toward the idiot and snatches the Happy Meal from his hands. She walks toward our booth and gingerly hands it to Marlene. 

“Thanks!” Marlene coos. 

Yes, she coos. 

The girl smiles and turns to me with respect in her eyes. Refreshing. 

“I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Reno like that,” she says. “That was awesome.” 

“So Reno is his name,” I ask. “It suits him.” 

She covers her mouth and giggles. I lean back and take a glance at her table. All of them are in shock. 

This girl doesn’t belong with those people. She’s the prettiest girl out of the bunch, wears the nicest clothes, and probably has the best hygiene. 

And she’s a deep brunette. I’ve always had a thing for brunettes. 

She gives me a flirtatious wink and rejoins her group. As soon as she’s gone, Sephiroth gives me a funny look. 

“What?” I ask. 

“Good work in New Jersey,” he declares. “Not only did you make a delinquent cringe, but you also picked up a girl.” 

“I didn’t pick her up,” I correct. 

Sephiroth points near my burger. I see a napkin sitting on top of it, with a cell phone number and a name: 

Tifa. 

I make an effort to keep my jaw from dropping. I look back at that table, and the girl is talking to her “friends” as if nothing has happened. But, while no one notices, she glances back at me with an encouraging look in her eye. We both look away at the same time. Marlene notices with her sharp eyes gives me a big “Oooooooo!” 

“I’m having a very interesting day today,” I decide. 

“Ditto,” Sephiroth replies. 

And we dig in. 

“Can I call you Seph-chan?” I ask politely. “Lucy already took ‘kun’.” 

“You’re not Japanese,” he replies. 

“I’m quarter-Japanese. And Lucy is?” 

Sephiroth rolls his eyes. “Point taken.” 

I’ll take that as a yes. Not that I really care right now. The double cheeseburger calls to me… 

“How can someone so tiny eat so much?” he questions. 

“He eats like a horse,” Marlene answers. 

“And how do horses eat, darling?” I ask sharply. 

Marlene shrugs. “I don’t know. That’s what Scarlet says. 

Damn you, Scarlet. 

“Don’t listen to a word that witch says,” I warn her. “She’s poisonous.” 

“I hate that woman,” Seph-chan mutters. “She’s worse than Lucy…”


	3. Awakening - Chapter Two: Fine dining experience

As soon as the driver retrieves us, the limousine sails away to the highway. My new home is still a bit of a ways off. I try to look out the window, but it’s starting to get dark.

I’m still hungry, but I don’t bother telling anyone.

Marlene falls asleep after fifteen minutes, with her little toy on her lap. It’s a cheap excuse of a mini Barbie doll. You’d think, in this day and age, McDonald’s would’ve thought of something better by now.

For some reason, I find myself ranting to my new companion about the evils of airports. It’s a one-sided conversation; I did all the talking, and he’s entertained. I guess I do that easily for him.

“The airport staff acts as if they’re doing you a favor,” I say. “But who’s working for a living? Me or them?”

Seph-chan opens his mouth to answer, but I don’t let him speak.

“And security! Don’t get me started on the security! They puff themselves out with their pitiful little badges, and they called me back for a chap stick. A chap stick! A bloody chap stick!”

“You should have snuck it in your pocket,” Seph-chan finally replies.

“I did!” I shoot back. “But they’ve developed a detector for that too! Those higher-ups sure have a lot of time on their hands! And to top it off, I had to hold Marlene’s hand throughout the whole nightmarish ordeal!”

“Commercial air travel sucks,” Seph-chan agrees. “Well, it’s good that you’ll never have to fly publicly again.”

I hear a “Halleluiah” chorus in my head, but I stare at him incredulously. He seems to read my mind.

“Tell me,” Seph-chan says. “What kind of house do you think we’re going to?”

I immediately tell him. I started out describing a two-story, five-bedroom house in some random suburbia. He gives me a dumbfounded look and stifles a snigger.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

The driver turns on a speaker and tells us that we‘ve entered the driveway. Seph-chan coughs a few times before regaining his composure.

“You are in for a **_very_** rude awakening,” he informs me.

Whatever that means, I don’t know. I see him push a button on the door, and the window slides down. He waves at me to come closer to him. I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide over. He puts his arm around my shoulder and points out.

“Look,” he says. “What do you see?”

We’re on a long, granite driveway surrounded by large pine trees. The driveway’s going slightly upward in a slant, so I’m unable to see above it. I keep watching, and as we come up the small hill, the trees begin to clear, and I can see the top of the house.

It’s a mansion! And definitely larger than five rooms!

“Breathe!” Seph-chan instructs.

At first, I don’t understand what he means. I feel myself suffocating. I inhale as much as I can and let it out. It comes out in a gasp, and my chest feels heavy all of the sudden. This has to be joke, right? Me in a mansion? Where’s the camera!?

“Is it…” I begin.

“Yes,” Seph-chan answers. “It’s real.”

“Is it…”

“Yes, this is the house…”

I pull myself away from the window and sink into the seat again.

“Are you…”

“No,” he answers. “I’m not egging you on.”

A few minutes later, I shake Marlene awake, and the driver pulls up into the driveway and opens our doors. We’re standing in front of it, and a group of people is there to greet us. As the limo drives off to the car house, my knees go weak.

“Wow!” Marlene cries. “Is Miss Luciano a rich lady?”

I can’t move. Seph-chan gives me a playful push forward towards the entrance. A set of wide, wooden stone steps leads up to it. A young woman from the group comes down halfway and waits for us.

“Good evening and welcome home,” she says (as if I’ve lived here all along). “I’m Shera…pleasure to see you ag…um, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Shera is a small woman under a pair of glasses, with a British accent like mine. Her black suit doesn’t go well with her complexion, but it suits her all the same. Her manner is friendly but slightly mousy.

“I take it you know our names already?” I ask.

“N-naturally…please come with me.”

The rest of the group greets us openly and bows their heads. Unlike Shera, most of them are much older. They gradually lead us inside. Marlene stays behind me the whole time. 

The first thing I notice about the house is that the halls are not very wide. Right in front of us, there was a life-sized replica of a terra cotta soldier guarding the entrance. The walls have Chinese and Japanese décor, matching the tastes of my mum. The tile floors are porcelain.

The group leaves to return to their duties, but Shera stays behind. Marlene walks over to the statue and taps on its curious armor. I dart forward and urge her away.

“I’ll show you to your suites,” Shera says.

I turn around to see if my new companion would come with me. But Seph-chan has completely disappeared.

\----------

Suite is the correct term for it. From the moment we stepped in, Marlene opened her mouth in delight and started prancing around like Bambi. I just opened my mouth in shock. Instead of a bedroom, I see a small living room with a couch and TV set. A bouquet of white tulips is sitting on a table.

I know this room must be Marlene’s room…because the overall color scheme makes me shudder.

A pink striped couch and a circular, pink chair (with pink throw pillows) are sitting on a Persian rug over pink carpet. On the wall (which is painted with pink and white stripes), there’s a painting of a geisha in a pink kimono, with a pink frame. The bathroom has pink and white tile patterns and pink towels. In the bedroom, the bed is decorated with pink ribbons, and it probably has baby pink sheets underneath. I think the TV set is pink too.

“This is so cool!” Marlene sings (literally). “Is this all mine?”

 _I pray to God it is!_ I hope.

“Yes,” Shera replies. “The Madame had it decorated especially for you.”

As a boy, I feel as if I’m going blind. I suck it up for Marlene’s sake and try to focus on the white vanity. With a vase of bloody, pink roses.

\--

“Such an adorable room,” Shera says. “Don’t ya think?”

I cough and reply yes.

“Your place is up ahead,” she tells me. “Five doors down from Marlene’s…on the opposite side. Just past the sitting room. The Madame thought it would be good to give you both some space.”

We pass by the sitting room, and something familiar catches my eye. The room’s mostly black and white, and the furniture’s nothing to fuss about. But in the corner, a black piano is sitting by the window. And it’s not just any piano.

By now, I’ve forgotten all about my new room, and Shera notices that I’ve stopped walking. The piano’s standing open, cleaned and undusted, just like I saw it last. I approach it carefully for some reason and run my fingers along the side. It’s smooth…as always.

“Your room is two doors down,” she says anxiously.

“That’s alright,” I reply. “I’ll see it later.”

Shera frowns but leaves me be. The piano and I are then alone.

Oh, I couldn’t be gladder to have it. After not seeing it for months, I thought that a relative might have pawned it off. And I see no scratches on the paint… otherwise, I’d have a conniption.

I sit down on the bench and press on a few keys. It’s been tuned. The notes ring out beautifully…. as always.

This time I push another set of notes, the beginning notes of I song I know. One on the many songs I know. So far so good, but I get the feeling that I was expecting something else. I play the beginning notes of another song. No dice.

My hands fall away from the keys and I take a deep breath…something I haven’t done properly for a while.

My parents’ had bought me this piano for my fifth birthday, when we first moved to England. I don’t remember why they got it for me at such young age. I didn’t know how to play it then.

My hands reach for the keys again, and I play another tune from the beginning. But this time, I don’t think I’ve ever heard the song before. I let my fingers to the talking, and they play the next bit of notes.

 For some reason, I **can** recognize the melody, but I know I’ve never played it before. I keep on playing anyhow. I close my eyes, as I usually do. Already, I’m playing the whole song, as if I know it by heart. After every few notes, there’s a jabbing sensation in the back of my head.

_I open my eyes, and suddenly, the whole room has changed! The walls turned from white to dark green. The plain, white couch has turned into a brown one from another era, probably from the early 2000’s. The paintings on the walls turned into Chinese glass murals and one mother-of-pearl fan. On the other side, there’s a set of bookshelves._

_A man is alone on the couch, reading a book. He turns a page and laughs at a funny line. He doesn’t seem to notice me, and I don’t try to get his attention. I’m already freaked out as it is._

_The man… looks somewhat like **me** , except for being older, having a longer face, and no spiky hair, but I will admit it’s a similar style. His skin’s a bit tanner, his hair is a darker blonde, and his eyes are red hazel. _

_A knock comes at the door, and the man tells someone to come in. A maid comes into the room, pushing a cart in front of her. On the cart, there’s tea, a small plate of pastries, and a small jar of white honey._

_I could probably use some of that myself right about now._

“ _On the table, please,” he commands._

_The maid nods and sets to work. The plate clanks on the table with the silverware. The tea pours into the cup with the rich sound, and the smell fills the air. Earl Grey. My favorite. The maid twists off the top of the honey and finishes._

“ _There you go, Nicky,” the maid says. “Enjoy.”_

“ _Thank you, Shera.”_

_Shera?! I look at the girl, but I can’t believe it. Unlike the Shera I had just met, this girl is strawberry blonde…and much taller! Her body’s a bit more promising too. She’s not even wearing glasses…_

_Nevertheless, “Shera” leaves the sitting room and returned to her duties._

_Finally, Nicky turns to look at me. If I were six younger, I would’ve screamed by now._

“ _Why do you look so surprised?” he asked._

“ _That wasn’t Shera!” I blurt out. “That woman wasn’t…”_

“ _Yes, that **was** her,” Nicky insists._

“ _Then who was the **other** girl I just met!?” _

_I can’t believe it! I’m talking to my own imagination!_

“ _She’s also Shera,” he replies. “Or least, she’s the one who gets to play Shera **now**.”_

_Nicky lets out a snicker, and it crawls down my spine._

“ _What’s that supposed to mean?” I reply._

 _“That’s right,_ _you don’t remember, do you?” he teases. “Oh well…you’ll know eventually…one mustn’t hurry these things along.”_

_Ridiculous. I want to move, but my body won’t let me._

“ _Guess who you’re playing as,” Nicky challenges._

“ _I’m not playing as anyone!” I shout back. “No one else has my name! My name is Cloud.”_

“ _Are you sure?”_

_I close my eyes and clutch my head. I’ve got to stop this. This has got to stop!_

But when I open my eyes again, the room is suddenly back to normal. And Nicky has vanished.

My hands began to shake, and I can no longer play the piano. Before I know it, I’ve shut the piano and rushed out of the sitting room. No piano sessions anymore today.

\--------

I end up making a beeline for my new…suite. I don’t even take in the décor as I rush past the living room, as I find the bedroom, or even as I launch myself onto the bed. My face gets buried into decorative pillows.

I roll onto my back, panting heavily.

What was that? What in heaven’s name what that!?

 

Was I seeing illusions, or did the room actually change? Was that really Shera? And who on earth is Nicky!?

A knock interrupts my thoughts, and I quickly sit up.

“C-come in,” I stammer a reply.

The door opens, and Shera enters all smiles. She’s pushing a cart in front of her…with Earl Grey tea and a jar of white honey!

I’m speechless. I really am.

“Madame’s orders,” she explains. “I’m to bring you tea every evening. No exceptions. You can have pastries too, if you’d like. Just ask.”

As she pours the tea, I recognize the smell. I begin to quiver in fear. Either something’s wrong in the world, or I’m going completely nuts.

I don’t know which one is better.

“Is something the matter?” she asks with concern.

 _Well gee, Miss Shera,_ I think. _I just saw and spoke with a man who probably doesn’t exist._

“I’m alright,” I lie through my teeth.

She raises an eyebrow but pretends to believe me.

“What would you like for dinner?” she inquires. “Our chef makes great stews and pastas...”

“S-surprise me.”

\---------

Saying that was a horrible mistake.

I’ve discovered that there is dining area in my…suite. Shera tells me that the every suite had one, but there is also a very large one near the kitchen. Marlene somehow convinced me to let her join in, even though she wasn’t hungry. A girl serves broccoli soup as an appetizer, which she receives with a grimace. She opens her mouth to complain, but I pinch her under the table. We’re polite guests after all.

“Where did Seph go?” Marlene asks.

“He had something to do, sweet love,” I answer. “Let him keep to himself.”

“Why?”

“We don’t know him, so we shouldn’t butt into his business.”

“But he’s our friend. He saved us from the ‘spies’.”

The broccoli soup tastes a tad sour. I’ll have to tell the cook about it.

“They weren’t dangerous spies,” I argue.

“All spies are dangerous,” Marlene says. “They _all_ are.”

For some reason, I get the feeling that she’s right. But I’m not about to indulge her.

“You’re soup’s getting cold,” I tell her.

Marlene grimaces and turns her head away. “It smells funny.”

I take a whiff, and I realize that she’s right. I had been so hungry that I hadn’t noticed. I taste the soup carefully again, and I realize that something’s gone rancid...or sour. I push the bowl away from me.

“We should fire the cook,” Marlene mutters vindictively.

I reach under the table and pinch her again.

\---------

Dinner had been a complete disaster. After dismissing the broccoli soup, with soured crème, the maids served us shellfish pasta in red sauce. Perhaps I should have mentioned that Marlene and I had grown up on a kosher diet, regardless of us not being Jewish. I sucked it up and ate it all to spare Marlene, while she confined herself to dinner rolls. Dessert was worse: key lime pie. Since early childhood, I’ve hate pastries mixed with citrus. Marlene was happy to have a second slice though.

After that, we begrudgingly went our separate ways for bed.

While I think about all this, I’m lying down in my bed for the first time. It’s better than thinking about what happened in the sitting room.

My stomach starts to growl, and I feel rather ashamed. Crikey… I ate that awful meal, and I’m _still_ hungry!?

No matter. Shera told me where the kitchen was, so I just go and get a midnight snack. I slide out of bed and leave the suite quietly. The halls are dimly lit, so it’s easy to find my way around.

Down another hall and around the corner, I find a very large kitchen with an equally large refrigerator. I dive right in without a moment’s hesitation. And the results are glorious in the darkness.

I find the most appealing root beer inside the door shelves. and there’s a leftover pot roast in the back, with mashed potatoes! Perhaps, there was a party before I got here.

My disciplined nature makes me get the vegetables. I shuffle all of my findings onto the counter and turn on the light to find the dishes.

_But as soon as the lights went on, I know something’s not right. The kitchen itself looks out of date. The refrigerator is now on the other side of the room, and my food…has disappeared!_

_The oven’s on and something nice is baking. The kitchen island is covered with sliced ingredients: potatoes, celery, carrots, lettuce, cauliflower, broccoli, and tomatoes. On the counter, there’s a ridiculously large fish on a cutting board, bones and all! A knife is sticking in it with grotesque style._

_A woman in an apron enters the kitchen from another entrance. The door swings behind her, like the one’s in the restaurants. I take a good look at her—the horror—and I recognize her immediately!_

“ _Quite a feast, isn’t it?” the woman declared. “Everyone went to the grocery store to get more food, but they left me all by my lonesome! Care to help me?”_

“ _You’re that girl,” I say._

_She gives me a curious look and looms over to the fish. She yanks the knife out of its side, and in one fell swoop, she lops of its head! I thought it disgusting yet impressive at the same time._

“ _I’m about the gut the fish,” she says. “I could use some help.”_

_The trash bin is underneath her. She dumps the fish head with a startling indifference._

“ _You’re that girl,” I repeat._

“ _Come again?”_

“ _I saw you in my dream,” I explain._

“ _In the forest, right?”_

_I feel more chills go down my spine. Maybe, the death of my parents has had an effect on my mind._

“ _That was work,” she says sullenly. “But this is fun. Come on! Help me!”_

_She waves the knife over the beheaded fish._

“ _How can I?” I ask. “This is nothing but an illusion.”_

“ _It might be more real than you think,” she replies._

_To my own disbelief, I walk over to her and take the knife from her hand. She grabs another apron from a hook and fastens it onto me. Luckily, it’s not pink, nor does it have frills._

“ _But I don’t know how to clean a fish!” I complain._

“ _Yes, you do,” the woman corrects. “Just think…and remember.”_

_I stare the fish down for a moment and set to work. I begin by cutting off the tail. I cut in the middle, and when I reach the skeleton, I pull out as much as I can. I almost retch when I see its organs in my hand. I dump it all into the trash. Then, I keep cutting until the great fish is bisected. I feel like I’m hacking something._

“ _See?!” the woman chirps. “You remember very well.”_

“ _But I’ve never done this before,” I reply._

“ _Yes, you have,” she argues. “And you’re rather good at it!”_

“ _Who are you?” I ask. I didn’t get a straight answer the first time._

“ _When you say ‘who are you’, are you asking about my name or my personal life?”_

_I stop while pulling out more stray bone. I’ve never thought of it that way before._

“ _A name…I suppose.”_

“ _I’m Nicoli…but you can call me Nicky!”_

“ _Nicky!”_

“ _Yes, Nicky.”_

_I shake my head and put the knife on the cutting board. I wipe my hands on my apron._

“ _You can’t be the Nicky I’ve seen!” I reply._

“ _I am,” Nicky insists._

“ _B-but y-y-you can’t be h-him!” I stammer. “You’re…”_

“ _Who said I was a really a woman?”_

_For some reason, my ears grow hot. I take quick look at the cleavage showing under her apron._

_I’m confused. I really am._

“ _You still have some work to do on that fish,” Nicky reminds me. “We can’t give the poor boy his freedom now!”_

_Despite everything, I find myself cutting the fish into quarters and scaling it._

“ _There you go,” Nicky says cheerfully. “Now I don’t have so much to do. When I actually did this, I was alone! Hey…give that to me. I’ll finish.”_

_Nicky takes the knife away and starts scaling the rest. After recovering a little from shock, I marvel at how much we look alike. Our eye shapes are similar, and we have matching noses. Even our smiles are quite the same…but I thought I got that from my mother._

“ _By the way,” Nicky says mischievously. “I wouldn’t eat that pot roast if I were you.”_

“ _Why no?” I ask._

“ _Because it belongs to Sephiroth,” he (or she) informs me. “And if he finds out that **you** ate it…you’re in for a bad day, my dear!”_

_Both Nicky and I hear the door click open. We turn around to look._

Speak of the devil.

Seph-chan comes into the kitchen, and he’s surprised to see me. I turn back to Nicky, but he (or she) has already gone. The kitchen has switched to a modern style. I’m not surprised.

My companion is looking at my findings on the counter, and he has an irritated scowl on his face.

“Is this yours?” I ask.

“Yes, is it,” he replies coldly.

“I can’t have it, can I?” I ask.

He boars into my head with his cat-like eyes. I put all of the food away with a heavy heart.

So… my “illusion” was right. I’m not crazy after all!

But now, that’s become another problem…

“I’m rather selfish with my food,” Seph-chan explains.

“So am I,” I reply. “I perfectly understand. Why kind of cereal do we have?”


	4. Awakening - Chapter Three: An unwelcome guest

I’m an early bird, but I still don’t do well in the morning. And to make matters worse, Marlene snuck into my room in the wee hours.

As I overcome low blood pressure, she’s already settled into my arms, curled up into a ball. When I try to get up, her eyes shut tighter and her small hands cling to me. My stomach growls in protest, and the rumbling wakes her up.

“Are you **really** hungry?” Marlene asks. “Even after all that spaghetti?”

“That was last night, sweet love,” I answer. “And I believe you’re supposed to say good morning.”

Marlene sticks her tongue out at me. She gets up and reaches for the sky in a stretch. I do the same with her. The clock reads twenty past six.

“The boarding school called mum and dad in January,” Marlene stated. “They said that you were eating too much. They said something about bulimia. What’s bulimia?”

“It’s an eating disorder,” I explain. “It’s when people want to lose weight so badly that they make themselves throw up after eating a lot of food. That’s bad for your throat.”

“Ewww!” she cries. “Who’d wanna do that?”

I shrug and climb out of bed. Marlene follows me into the bathroom.

“The school thought you were doing that,” Marlene confessed. “Is that bad?”

“Yes,” I tell her. “Bulimia **_is_** bad.”

“So were you doing it?” Marlene inquires.

“No, Marlene…I’m not a bulimic.”

I reach for the toothpaste and electric toothbrush.

“When they told dad,” she continues, “He told them that nothing was wrong. He said big appetites run in the family. But I don’t know anyone else who eats like **you**.”

I shake my head and squeeze a pea drop onto the toothbrush. She hums a song as do first morning brush.

“If you eat so much,” Marlene says (after I finish), “then how come you’ve never gotten fat?”

“That’s the mystery of the sciences,” I answer. “Which reminds me. Shall I cook breakfast for us?”

“And not wait for the **_yummy_** food the cook will make us?” Marlene replies sarcastically. “Oh no, Cloud. We mustn’t.”

She’s getting smarter every day.

\----------

Mum always had the kitchen started early in the morning. It made me wake up on time, sick or healthy. She was a genius with a magic touch. Her food was savory and delicious (without salt), and I was willing do anything to find out her secrets. It made me happy that she told me, before I went to that London boarding school.

Before the accident…

But she never taught me how to gut a fish.

When we sneak into the kitchen, a cup of hot coffee is sitting on the counter. No one is there. That makes it all the more easier for us.

Marlene demands an omelet, with mushrooms and green peppers and cheese and tomatoes...and cilantro?  I find all of her requests and lay them out on the kitchen island.

For the first time, I take an even better look at the kitchen. There are an unusual number of two stoves in the kitchen: one near the window and the other built into the island. The refrigerator and two ovens (yes, two) are built into the wall. The entire kitchen is designed in a nouveau style with sharp edges. The island stove sparks my fancy, so I set up there.

“This is cool!” Marlene squeaks. “Is this really a kitchen?”

“I suppose so,” I reply.

The island is intricate, with four different surfaces altogether. The stove is on the highest surface. Three counter spaces are jutting from the sides of the island; they’re convenient, for me at least. One of the counters is short enough for Marlene to stand over.

“Are there any aprons?” Marlene asks.

“Check the pantry,” I command her.

Marlene scampers towards it and opens the door to peak in. “Yup, they’re here.”

“Get one.”

“Why not two?”

“Because none of them will fit you.”

While the stove heats up, I find the pots and pans. The cooking tools are in the drawer above them. The bowls are three cabinets down.

“There’s jasmine rice in the pantry,” Marlene says. “Can we make that too?”

“Don’t load me with more work,” I protest.

I keep in mind to drag out a boiling pot anyway. I switch the stove on, and it starts heating up. I hear Marlene whine and fuss, but she comes back dragging a lacy, pink apron on the floor. She hands it to me with both hands.

“No, no!” I cry. “Get another one. Anything but that!”

Marlene snubs me and goes back. She returns with beige apron, made of thick cloth. I put it on and tie the strings in their proper places, albeit with some difficulty. I urge Marlene to find some olive or vegetable oil in the pantry, along with the rice she wants so badly. She comes back with it all, including the measuring cup I forgot to mention.

She’s quite the big helper for someone so small.

“Did Mummy tell you all her secret ingredients and stuff?” she questions.

“Every last one,” I confirm. “She taught me all of them.”

 “Will you tell me?” she pleads.

“When you get older.”

Marlene walks over and gives me a small kick in the leg.

I smell the cilantro to make sure it’s clean, and it still seems to be good. I set my little sister up on the lowest counter and give her a bowl.

“Tear the leaves off the stems,” I tell her. “Like this.”

I demonstrate the process to her a few times and watch her as she imitates. When she has a handle on it, I carry the boiling pot towards the sink, filling it with water. I transfer it to the hot stove and open the bag of rice. When I see the label on the bag, I realize that the rice is of good quality, which worries me a bit. But no matter. I read the instructions and shovel the rice with the measuring cup. I pour the grain into the pot and it splashes in.

“We haven’t had a good meal in months,” Marlene states. I don’t like Aunt Lu’s cooking. She uses too much garlic.”

“Aunt Lucrecia never tastes her own cooking,” I explain.

I clamp the glass top on the boiling pot and start on the omelet mix. I crack the eggs out of the shells, with a fancy technique of the wrist. I push the bowl back start chopping the mushrooms.

The kitchen door swings open, and Seph-chan walks in completely unawares. He stops dead in his robe and pajamas and stares at me as _I’m_ the one who looks strange. I fumble for an explanation.

“We woke up this morning,” I say, “And we just couldn’t wait for anything.”

“You hate the cooking,” Seph-chan corrects.

“We sure do!” Marlene declares.

I laugh nervously. Sometimes, I could really kill my sister.

He walks toward me without a word and picks out six more eggs. He cracks them himself.

“Is that the jasmine rice,” he says.

“Yes,” I answer.

I can see that I’m in no trouble, so I continue chopping. Seph-chan watches us for a bit and goes to do whatever he came here for. He reaches for the waiting cup of coffee.

The door swings open again, and the sight is astounding. My jaw drops. Coming into the kitchen, a familiar little brunette yawns and walks past me. Her hair is in a delightful mess. She’s wearing a robe (loose and untied) that stops behind her knees and nightgown that’s short enough to make me blush. Apparently, she is too groggy to notice me, let alone recognize me.

She stops at Seph-chan’s side to wait for more coffee.

“Morning, Tifa,” Seph-chan greets her.

“Morning… Seph,” Tifa answers. “Guh… I barely got any sleep last night.”

Tifa combs through her hair with her fingers and yawns without covering her mouth. 

I know I should be stunned to see her, but I think I’m starting to learn to expect the unexpected…

“Aren’t you going to say good morning?” Seph-chan teases her.

“I already did,” Tifa replies.

“What about them?”

He points towards us with a smile on his face. Tifa pushes her bangs out of her eyes to take a better look. As soon as she recognizes my face, her cheeks go several shades of red. She lets out a squeal, turns around and punches him in the arm. Tifa ties up her robe and walks over to a mirror in the kitchen to straighten her appearance.

“You are scum!” she proclaims. “Why didn’t you tell me he was living **_here_**?”

“I was right there with him at McD’s,” Seph-chan argues. “I thought you’d put two and two together…”

“You could’ve invited me to the table!” Tifa shoots back.

“And take you away from your friends?” he responds innocently.

“Bite the big one, Seph! I hardly know them!”

She quickly makes her hair somewhat suitable and dashes over to the sink to wash her face.

“Isn’t that you girlfriend?” Marlene teases.

“No, sweet love,” I reply. “That’s the tooth fairy.”

Marlene giggles. I roll my eyes and start frying the mushrooms in an oiled pan.

“G-good morning,” Tifa greets me soberly. “Why are you cooking?”

“He hates the cooking here,” Seph-chan answers.

“I do **not** ,” I blurt out.

“Yes, he does,” Marlene declares. “And so do I. We don’t eat bad food. Or non-kosher. And last night, we got both!”

Tifa and Seph-chan stare at her with dinner plate eyes. Oh, this child…

“Marlene, I’m going kill you, ” I say calmly. “ And after I kill you, I’ll cut out your heart and eat it for dinner…”

Between Marlene and I, the accurate translation of my words would be:

“Don’t you dare mention **that** again…”

 Our audience doesn’t understand, of course, and I can tell by their mortified faces.

“You might want to take my guts too,” she counters. “My heart won’t be enough for your **two** stomachs…”

She sticks out the reddest tongue I’ll ever see and gives me her signature raspberry.

I let out a sigh and grab a tomato. As I soon as I take the knife, a strange sensation comes over me. With surprising finesse, I spin the knife around in hand, and in one devastating stroke, I chop the fruit straight in half. Marlene quiets down.

Tifa nervously clears her throat and joins us at the island. Seph-chan distracts himself with coffee.

“How about I cut some of this?” she offered.

“I can’t see why not,” I answer. “I could use the help.”

I check the rice again and stir it around. The kitchen door swings open for the third time, and another familiar (yet unpleasant) face appears. He stretches out his arms and yawns.

“Nice yawn, Reno,” Tifa says with sarcasm. “You should join the opera.”

My nose begins twitch. Reno smacks his lips and opens his slowly opens his peepers. He sees me and halts on his feet. Marlene grins and points at him.

“Hey, Cloud!” Marlene cries. “It’s the wuss!”

Reno gapes. Reno yelps. Reno turns around and runs out of the kitchen.

Two seconds later, the door opens once again… with more residents. Just how many people live in this place?

Another guy, with long, black hair, saunters into kitchen. A blonde follows after him. They immediately notice that breakfast is being made and sniff the air. It’s probably those mushrooms I’m cooking.

“What’s Reno’s problem?” the guy asks.

“He bit off more than he could chew,” Seph-chan answers jokingly.

Both of them smile and shrug, even though they don’t quite understand. But when they see me, their mood changes drastically.

“Morning, Zack,” Tifa chirped. “Morning, Elena.”

I tell them “good morning” myself. Zack and Elena do not reciprocate in the slightest. Instead, I receive a pair of nasty looks. I try not to pay attention as I slice the tomato into pieces. Tifa reaches for the egg carton to pick out more.

“We’re making omelets and rice,” Tifa told them. “There’s plenty for everyone!”

Both of them turn around and leave. Tifa opens her mouth wordlessly and frowns.

“Wait a second!” she calls out. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”

The door slams shut. Tifa scoffs and shakes her head.

“What is **_their_** problem?” Tifa mutters in exasperation. “Sorry about that. They’ve never acted like that before.”

“Quite alright,” I respond. “I’m used to it.”

Tifa starts slicing the green pepper with frustrated grunts. The angle she holds knife isn’t exactly right, so she has trouble cutting through. Almost reflexively, I reach over and adjust her hand in the right position.

“It’s all in the technique,” I enlighten her.

She gives me an alluring, “thank you” smile. My ears grow hot, and I feel a silly grin on my face.

“Look, he’s blooming!” Marlene sings.

I side glance the brat with a dark look. She shrinks away to wash her hands.

\-----------

Breakfast has been very awkward and cold. And I’m not talking about the food (which is delicious, if I do say so myself).

Almost everyone at the table is looking at me, and the majority of their stares (or glares) are hostile. I’m used to lots of attention, but I mind it very much. By now, three more faces are seated at the table: two men and a woman. From what I heard from Miss Tifa, their names are Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie.

And apparently, they all hate me too.

But why?

I see Shera and Tifa sitting a few places away from me, and I look upon them for some relief. Marlene tugs on my shirt and beckons me closer to her. I open a listening ear and lean to the side, while she covers my ear with her hands.

“I don’t think they like you,” Marlene whispers in Japanese.

She pulls her hands away and pushes herself up so I can whisper my answer in her ear.

“Who cares?” I reply in the same language.

She sits back down and waves me over for another comment.

“I think they’re decapitating you with their eyes,” she says with glee.

“You have a charming imagination,” I observe.

We end the conversation and continue eating. Tifa coughs and starts another.

“So, you’re from England?” she inquires me.

“No,” I answer. “I’m…”

“You sound pretty English to me,” Zack interrupts derisively.

He savagely scrapes some egg off the side of the plate. I ignore him and keep going.

“I was born in South Africa,” I continue. “I never saw England until I was five. My father was half Japanese, and Mother was Sicilian.”

“We’re mutts!” Marlene adds enthusiastically.

Shera covers her mouth and laughs. The hostile forces react nonchalantly.

“Japanese and Sicilian,” Seph-chan joins in. “Your family reunions must have been… very interesting.”

“Of course, they were,” I reply, “Mum sang Italian in the kitchen. My English uncles got drunk, and aunts from Japanese kept arguing about whom I should marry. And I ate rigatoni and tamagoyaki…and someone made me eat spotted dick once…”

I cringe at the thought. “Good Lord… I hate spotted dick…”

“You’ve eaten penis?” Reno asks.

The table is filled with snickers. Ah, Reno, my poor hapless opponent. My temper, usually controlled, flares up a bit. Ignorance should be punished.

“Spotted dick… is a steamed, dessert pudding made out of raw animal fat and currants.” I curtly inform him. “Disgusting yes, but it has nothing to do with anyone’s genitalia… dumbarse!”

The table goes quiet. Reno slumps sheepishly.

I quickly turned to Marlene. She waves me off.

“I know, I know,” she replies. “That was a bad word. I’m not supposed to use it.”

\-----------

For the rest of the day, I’ve managed to keep myself to myself. Whenever someone, who happened not to like me, was in a room, and I never went in. If I needed something in the kitchen and someone was there, I took it quickly and left.

It’s that bad.

In the end, I retreat into the sitting room and play my piano for three hours straight.

I check my wristwatch. Shera should be bringing me some tea in a few minutes. I flex my fingers for the third time and start one of my favorite pieces: Le Chante Pour Passer Le Temps.

Perfect, just perfect…I’m playing a moody song.

I’m pathetic…and lonely.

I’ve never felt more alone in all my life. Sure, I still have my Marlene, and Seph-chan has been a good companion. Even Shera and Tifa are a great help. But that just isn’t enough. It seems as if I had been cast aside somewhere like flotsam.

None of my relatives have any interest in me. They probably wanted custody of me for Mum and Dad’s money. And who knows what this “Madame” **_really_** wants.

And even now, these people… these absolute strangers…are reminding me even more of my loneliness. 

_I’m barely halfway through song when I hear **his** voice again. I quickly glance around the room, but nothing has changed. Nicky is leaning against the piano, looking in the opposite direction. For some strange reason, I’m glad to see him (or her), so I don’t say anything. _

_I continue playing as if nothing is out of the ordinary._

_“Are you actually going to take this from them?” he questions._

_“Got any brighter ideas?” I reply._

_Nicky lowers his eyes and shakes his head._

_“It’s never easy,” he muses. “Being the new guy, I mean.”_

_“Yes, but why do they hate me?” I ask. “Was it something I said?”_

_“They believe you’re replacing something important to them,” Nicky explains. “It’s not your fault.”_

_His response leaves me dumb. I don’t know what to say to that._

_“Why not just hate them back?” he suggests._

_My fingers freeze over the keys._

_“You’re a musical prodigy, aren’t you?” Nicky inquires. “Able to play a long piece at the age of twelve…”_

_“I’m incapable of hating anyone,” I interrupt. “I can’t even hate Scarlet. I don’t know how. I can dislike all I want, but I… ”_

_“Dislike and hate are the same thing,” Nicky argues._

_“No…that’s basically saying that ‘love’ and ‘like’ are the same. Love and hate mean the opposite, and the same goes for like and dislike. If like is not the same as love…then dislike cannot be the same as hate.”_

_Nicky turns toward me and arches an eyebrow. He smiles, probably pleased with my answer._

_“That’s a clever way of putting it,” he says._

_I take a long deep breath and rest my elbows on the keys. The keys sing out under my weight._

_“What are you anyway?” I ask. “Are you supposed to be a ghost or something?” I answer._

_He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “I’m not very sure. I guess… you could say that…”_

I jerk my head up, but Nicky has taken leave once again.

“He likes to come and go as he pleases…”

A few minutes later, Shera knocks on the door, and I tell her to enter. She comes in with the tray in her hands, and Marlene is marching behind at her heels.

“All aboard for the tea express!” Marlene announces.

“Where do you want it, Cloud?” Shera asks.

“Right on the piano top, please,” I answer. “Just in time. I could use a cup or two.”

“Have they been bloody to you?” Shera asks in a harsh manner. “I can take care of that!”

“I don’t want any trouble.”

Marlene ventures over and climbs next to me on the piano bench. I try to give her a happy smile. But she’s not convinced. Little children are very perceptive. Marlene reaches up and catches my face with her small hands. She pulls me down to her level and gives me a peck on the lips.

“I don’t like it when you’re sad,” Marlene complains. “It makes me want to cry.”

I laugh at the thought.

“It’s not funny!” she shouts in annoyance.

“You said you liked only one spoonful of honey?” Shera asks.

“Yes.”

Shera scoops out some honey and stirs the cup with remarkable smoothness. Marlene tugs on my shirt to get my attention.

“Teach me how to play,” she demands.

“I’m not a good teacher,” I reply. “You need an instructor. And besides, I’m starting higher education next month.”

Shera hands me the teacup, and I smell it for aromatherapy.

“Higher education,” Marlene repeats curiously. “That’s college, right? I thought adults went to college when they turned…when do they go again?”

“Seventeen or eighteen,” I affirm. “At the least. If you’re smart enough, you might get to go earlier.”

“Does that mean you’re a genius?” Marlene asks in joy.

Shera fixes a second cup of tea for herself.

“Not necessarily,” I answer. “The real geniuses are people who go to college when they’re your age.”

“Five year olds in college?”

Shera lets out a sigh and takes a sip. She seems a bit weary today. I hope it’s not my issues.

“There’s been a bad atmosphere all day,” Shera mutters.“I believe I will have a talk with them all.”

“Please don’t!” I beg.

“I’m not doing it for you,” she replies honestly. “I just think the whole matter is absolutely ridiculous. Even Seph will agree with me…and he’s practically a social Darwinist…”

I shake my head and smile. “It won’t be long…sooner or later, they’ll realize I’m harmless.”

“What do you mean by that?” she questions.

“Isn’t that it?” I respond. “They think I’m a bad change to their lives. Isn’t that what’s bothering them?”

Shera purses her lips together and seems to be startled.

“I beg your pardon,” I say quietly.

As she takes another sip of her tea, I notice that her hand is shaking.

\---------

After dinner—I secretly made for Marlene and myself—I sneak outside to the back of the mansion with _The Garden of the Prophet_ and portable light. There are several rows of rose bushes and a line of stone benches, so I perch myself on one and make myself comfortable.   

It’s a lovely moon out tonight.

I used to do this after hours in my boarding school; I’d curl up in some odd hiding place and read a book until my eyes were shot. Never mind that the majority of my “door-mates” still suck. I can always stay sane as long as I can have my peace and quiet.

I turn on the light and open up my book to where I last left off. Dad would’ve been proud.

After a while, I start hearing a small, crunching sound in the distance. I listen for a few seconds, and it stops. I continue reading.

I hear the crunch again and stop again. It disappears at first, but I perk up my ears. And then, I hear a third time. Someone is definitely here. I jab the bookmark into the book and close it. I stand up, pick up the lantern, and wave it around, looking any moving figure. I see no one.

“I know you’re there,” I call out. “So come out and stop sneaking around!”

My first guess is that someone’s playing a mean-spirited joke on me. But I haven’t been in this house long enough for that.

I hear footsteps approaching, inconspicuously this time, and I turn to see another new face. I shine the light on him to take a better look. At first glance, I’d say that the man is about my height (maybe a little taller). He appears to be Asian, perhaps Chinese, with neat shoulder length hair. His clothes are casual but businesslike.

He makes eye contact with me and bows his head with a smile.

One of the first gestures of respect I’ve received from a stranger all day. How refreshing!

“Good evening,” he greets smoothly. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Good evening to you,” I answer. “But I’ve never seen you before…”

I nearly slap myself for saying that. He doesn’t seem offended, so I relax.

“Are you a guest in this house?” I ask.

“No…I’m what you call a ‘trespasser’.”

I frown at the dangerous word.  I wonder if I should run back into the house or shout for someone.

“And why would you do something like that?” I answered calmly. “Are you a burglar or something.”

The man raises his hands in defense and grins. “Nothing of the sort. I came to wish you a happy birthday. You turned sixteen less than a week ago, am I correct?”

Hmm, so he **_does_** know me. Now we’re getting somewhere. But that doesn’t mean I won’t stay on my toes.

“I did…” I answer. “Is that all?”

“I’ve planned a wonderful birthday present for you,” he says proudly.

He pulls a small envelope and hands it to me. I feel something small and hard inside of it.

“What’s this?” I ask him.

“If you don’t have it,” he replies, “You won’t be able to get it.”

A flag is raised in my mind, and I stuff the envelope in my rear pocket. He walks past me and sits down on the bench. I set the lantern next to him.

“Has your stay here in the U.S. been to your liking so far?” he inquires.

I open my mouth to answer, but he does it for me.

“Of course not,” he jeers. “This house…They’re ostracized you, haven’t they?”

“It’s alright...” I respond.

“Yes, it its. Who needs them? They’re nothing but useless, uncultured clods.”

I’m a bit stunned by his choice of diction. In high society, those were fighting words. I take them with a grain of salt.

The trespasser sees my book and picks it up curiously.

“ _The Garden of the Prophet_ ,” he reads. “By Kahlil Gibran. You have excellent taste.”

“My father’s influence,” I explain. “He wanted me to be well-read.”

“The late Dr. Jiro Strife…”

I nod in slight excitement.

“How would you like to come with me?” he asks. “Right now?”

I back away in confusion. “Not particularly.”

“Why not?” he asks in disappointment.

“My parents wanted me to stay here…so that’s exactly what I’ll do. I don’t know you…and I don’t trust you. I don’t even have your name.”

“It’s Tseng,” he says.

“Nice to meet you, sir. But that still doesn’t change my decision.”

He lets out a chuckle and stands up. He takes my book and taps me on the head.

“You’re wasting your time,” he warns. “You’ll die of boredom here.”

He slips the book under my chin and raises my head up. He leans closer to me until our faces are inches apart.

“That house,” he whispers, “is filled with a whole bunch of nothing…but you and I…”

“But you and I are gods,” I finish.

The phrase comes out of my mouth before I even know it. My whole world stops, and I feel very uneasy.

_You and I are gods._ I think…I’ve heard those words before.

In a split second, someone pushes Tseng away from me. I see a flash of silver in front of me, blocking him from getting any closer. Tseng brushes off the front of his coat.

“Now that was little uncalled for,” Tseng scorns.

“And why are you slithering around here?”

It takes me a few seconds to recognize the person’s voice: it’s Seph-chan. He pushes and quickly turns back to our intruder.

“I was just saying happy birthday,” Tseng replies innocently. “What amendment of the constitution does that break?”

“So you’ve said it,” Seph-chan answers aggresively . “Now get out!”

I watch Tseng’s face as it morphs into wild amusement.  A shiver goes down my spine. He tosses the book to me, and I reach out and catch it.

“Fine, fine!” he replies. “I’m going. I’m going.”

Tseng turns around and walks way, turning off the lantern as he goes. Seph-chan picks it up and watches until he disappears from sight.

He sighs in relief and gives me a stern look.

“Don’t come outside by yourself again,” he instructs me. “Understand?”

I nod briefly and apologize. What a way to end the day.


	5. Awakening - Chapter Four: A tempting idea

_After a rather restless night’s sleep, I wake up and find myself standing in a long, wide hallway._

_There’s sunlight everywhere. I see a long wall of opened windows on my left side. On my right, there are paintings hanging on the opposite wall. And as much as I try to deny it, I can’t help but fell rather nostalgic._

_For some reason, I feel very strange._

_On a whim, I look at down my hands. I look closer, and my hands and my fingers have changed. They’re smaller and they’ve become—for lack of a better way of putting it—more delicate. I breathe sharply. I cling at my hair._

_“W-what is this?!”_

_My voice isn’t my own either. I still have my British accent, but the voice that comes out is softer and higher. Come to think of it, my hair’s different too. As my hands move away from my head, strings of long, shaggy hair follows with my fingers._

_Suddenly, I’m feeling myself up, looking for what else might’ve changed. My pajamas are too big for me now. And when I feel a pair of assets, where my chest is **supposed** to be, I begin to panic. I want to look down, but my neck won’t move right. My knees give out, and I fall down in an awkward sitting position. I try to keep myself from hyperventilating._

_“Now, now,” I say to myself. “Get a hold of yourself! This is just a dream. A really, really **bad** dream.”_

_Up ahead, I see a decorative mirror. It’s time to come to terms with this “fantasy”. I hop to my feet, stepping quickly and lively._

_I start feel a strange weight around my body, and there’s a **clicking** sound in the air. I look down, and my pajamas are gone. I’m wearing a dress!?_

_I have to know the truth. I have to!_

_I take a deep breath and step in front the mirror. As I stare into it, someone else is looking back at me. Illusion or not, I see a young, teenage girl who shares my face. Some of her hair is done up in a fancy bun, and the rest spills down her pack. And she’s wearing make-up. Her lips are trembling in shock._

_My hands reflexively touch my face, and she does the same. Her eyes are wide with horror, and her hands began to shake. We both try to scream, but when we open our mouths to do it, nothing comes out. I swallow, and her throat moves. I reach out to touch the mirror, and the girl’s arms move towards me._

_I stop when I notice the black, elbow length gloves on my arms. I find my voice again._

_“That’s really me, isn’t it!?”_

_During stressful times, Mum had advised me to take several deep breaths before making a decision. It always worked in the past, so why shouldn’t it now? I take a few steps back, and I suck in as much air as I can. I let it out noisily and breathe in more._

_I examine the dress a little better. It’s red and knee-length, with spaghetti straps and a black, lacy skin sewn on top. I look at it with disdain. Don’t get me wrong; I think the dress is perfectly fine. The fact that I’m **wearing** it is not. And adding insult to injury, it’s showing cleavage! _

_But it can’t get any worse though. Can it?_

_A rather foreign pain shoots through my feet, and I look down to see what’s wrong. I’m wearing a pair of black stilettos, each shoe decorated with a tiny, red bow._

_I’m a boy, stuck in the body of a girl, and I’m wearing a dress._

_Though the breeze is quite refreshing…_

_I start hearing voices in the distance. I look towards the end of the hall. Two colorful looking women are coming my way._

_My first thought is to run, but I have nowhere to go. Not to mention that this hallway is freakishly long. I look for a place to duck, but the nearest door is too far away. And these bloody heels are killing me!_

_How do women wear these torture devices!?_

_The first woman, older looking, has an energizing hourglass body, complemented by a long, slinky, black dress. There’s a long string of pearls around her pale neck, along with matching earrings. Her hair is platinum, and her eyes are dark red, almost like blood. Her lips are a burgundy stain._

_The younger woman is taller and thinner, and she’s wearing a blue cheongsam with a double slit. Her hair is pinned up. She looks very much like me, but her hair is slightly darker…and her eyes are red hazel…_

_W-wait just a blooming minute! That’s Nicky!_

_They walk right past me like they don’t even notice. Nicky stops and looks back at me with a mischievous simper. He calls out to his older companion._

_“Madame!”_

_The older woman turns around and gives Nicky a curious stare._

_“I’m going to touch up a bit,” he says to her. “Be there in a minute.”_

_“Don’t take too long, darling,” she replies. Then, she continues on her way, alone._

_Nicky stops near the mirror and leans on the wall._

_“So,” he begins, “How are the heels working for you?”_

_My temper is coming to a boil._

_“I hate them!” I complain. “My feet are screaming! This is wrong! We shouldn’t be wearing dresses!”_

_“Stop whining,” Nicky teases. “We look fabulous.”_

_“That’s not the point! I’m a boy! B-O-Y!”_

_Nicky looks at me and bursts into a delighted cackle. I fail to see the humor._

_“Come here,” he beckons._

_I stay exactly where I am. Nicky frowns and waves me over with authority._

_“Get over here!”_

_In the five steps it takes to get the mirror, my feet are being pinched. I’d like to take a hatchet to whoever invented high-heels._

_Nicky forces me to face the mirror and wraps around my shoulders._

_“Look at you!” Nicky sings. “You grew an extra skin.”_

_I wrinkle my nose. “I grew a ‘what’?”_

_Nicky sighs and clears his throat._

_“Say you’re able to grow a second skin whenever you want one,” Nicky says. “It’s a disguise… like a body suit.”_

_Silence._

_“I’m not following,” I reply._

_“You’re in a ‘skin’,” he explains. “What you’re seeing right now is a skin that’s grown over your real body. It’s not really you. It’s just a mask.”_

_“But I’m smaller!” I argue. “And my voice is higher—”_

_“Don’t sweat the small stuff, dear. You’ll get a rash.”_

_So, it’s not real after all. That’s a relief. But then another question rises in my head._

_“Did **you** do this to me?” I ask._

_Nicky sticks out his tongue. My temper rises again._

_“Is this your idea of a joke!?” I mutter._

_“It’s only a preview,” Nicky counters._

_My hands are balling up in fists. I turn towards him with a scowl on. Nicky gives me a concerned look._

_“That’s a nasty twinge you’ve developed,” he comments. “Are you feeling stressed?”_

_“A preview of what!?” I question._

_“Oh that? Well…let’s just say that we’re going to have lots of fun today!”_

_“But why…in the world…am I wearing this outfit!?”_

_“Because you look so sexy in it…”_

_The wide smirk appears on his face, and his answer practically flows past his lips._

_That did it! **That** did it!_

_I finally lose control of my temper. Ignoring the pain in my feet, I lunge forward to attack._

\--------

When I really wake up, I’m falling from the edge of my bed. I try to regain my balance, but it’s too late. The landing isn’t pleasant. I try to get off my stomach, all the while writhing in pain on the floor. Marlene peeks over the edge and laughs at me.

 “Go jump in a lake!” I grumble.

 “I believe you’re supposed to say good morning,” Marlene croons.

She slides down on the duvet and lands gracefully. As I sit up, the pain’s already long gone. Marlene stands over me with a funny look on her face.

“You were saying funny things in your sleep,” she tells me. “Did you say you were wearing a dress?”

“Well, of course,” I reply sarcastically. “Wouldn’t I look ravishing in one?”

Marlene snorts at me. “You’re weird!”

I hear a small thump coming from beyond the bedroom door. I stop and listen carefully; it sounds like some is rustling through something in my suite. I stand up quickly.

“What?” Marlene asks.

The door isn’t completely shut, so opening doesn’t cause much noise. I follow the sounds and walk quietly through the tiny hallway of the suite.

“Stay back, darling,” I command her.

I step at into a small hall and stop to listen again. It sounds like its coming from my new living room.

When I come to the door of my living room, I find that this is indeed where the sound is coming from. I peek inside to see what’s going on. The room is dim, and all I see are several silhouettes of people. They seem to be going through my things… wait! My Mum’s collections are in there! 

Marlene walks up from behind and tries to say something, but I turn around and put a finger to my lips. She quiets down, but it doesn’t stop her from peeking with me.

After a minute or two, one of my mysterious visitors speaks up.

“You guys,” a girl whispers. “I think we should stop….”

“Relax,” a boy interrupts. “It’s not like we’re gonna steal anything.”

“I know,” she replies. “But I’m just getting this feeling.”

Someone sighs while I hear drawers being opened. Wait just a minute! They’re opening my drawers?!

“We’re gonna find all we need to know about this wannabe,” another boy mutters. “What’s the Madame thinking? Putting him in front of us…”

I recognize the voice as Zack’s. I might have known.

“Got that right,” a second girl chimes in. “Did you hear him talk yesterday? What a goody-two-shoes!”

I almost snort in protest, but I’m actually enjoying myself. I definitely don’t want them to know that I’m awake.

“I dunno,” a third boy says nervously. “It’d be bad if he caught us. I think he’s a total psycho…”

I’m pretty sure that’s Reno. The room behind the door is suddenly filled with snickers and low giggles. When I hear them all, I estimate a total of five or six people in the room.

How I can tell…I have no idea.

“Psycho?” Zack asks incredulously. “Good one, Reno.”

The conversation ends there. The girl who had spoken first decides to speak up once more.

“I really think we should stop,” she pleads. “I…it’s just…it feels…like we’ve done this before…”

“Ah, lighten up!” another voice whispers harshly.

Whoever this girl is, her words strike a cord in me. _Yes_ … this entire situation is familiar to me…almost like déjà vu. It stirs up a very strange emotion in me…not anger…not annoyance…probably, a little bit of fear...but it’s more like a gnawing alertness. I have to do something about this.

I make a decision, and I slink into the living room unnoticed. There’s barely any light in the room, so no one’s the wiser to my presence. I’m surprised at how stealthy I become. Marlene tries to follow me, but I give her a slight push and motion for her to stay behind the door. 

I lean against the wall and try to figure out my next course of action. To be quite honest, if they had simply **asked** to look through my things, I wouldn’t have found a reason to say “no”.

What exactly is the best thing to do?

Quietly…but briskly, I walk over to the lamp (I can barely see its outline). Even then, no one notices me. I manage to get behind one of the intruders, who is examining one of Mum’s favorite figurines. He reaches out to touch it, and my instincts force me to grab his wrist.

“Hey!”

Heh, it’s Reno. This is perfect.

“Don’t touch that,” I whisper.

“Why not?” he asks. “It’s not like I’m gonna break it.”

I give out a small sigh of pity. Ignorance really **_is_** bliss.

“What you are about to touch,” I explain, “Is an authentic, handcrafted, Lalique figurine of a Chinese New Year’s dragon.”

“So?” Reno asks. “I’ll be careful.”

He tries to yank his hand away, but I keep a good hold. I’m rather attached to this crystal.

“It also costs more than twenty-eight hundred American dollars,” I add. “Wouldn’t want to risk that, eh?”

“God!” Reno mutters. “I didn’t know that…I mean, I don’t like the guy…but I wouldn’t want to…wait a minute! How did **you** know that?”

I lean closer so that Reno can hear every word that I say.

“My dad went to Hong Kong for a business trip. While he was there, he found this huge Lalique store. Mum really liked Lalique, so he and bought it as an anniversary present…”

I hear a small gasp. He turns around, grabs my collar, and pulls me closer to his face. I grin, showing my teeth. And here’s me, thinking Reno wasn’t sharp.

“Good morning,” I whisper.

Reno stares at me with the most hilarious mien I’ve ever seen in my life. Then, he screams like a girl and lets go. It’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I’m more than satisfied. The whole company stops what they’re doing to turn their heads.

“Geez, Reno!” a girl cries. “What was that for!? Are you trying to wake him up!?”

I happily reach behind the crystal dragon for the lamp. As the light turns on, all of my household enemies are shocked and appalled to see me. This has turned out to be an interesting morning.

“Sorry for sneaking around you blokes,” I say to all of them. “But a ruse for a ruse, n’est pas?”

“Y-yeah!” Reno answers in a stammer.

Hm, maybe I like him after all.

“The party’s over,” I continue, “Unless, of course, you still want to rummage through my things. You have my permission to do so. Just keep in mind that if you break anything … I’m not above suing you.”

“And he’ll win!” Marlene cries.

Her head appears from the door, and she’s ready to see the collateral damage.

“Go back to your room, sweet love,” I tell her.

She doesn’t.

All eyes are on me (again), and to my astonishment, I still sense negative energy. What, do they actually have the audacity to be angry with me **now**?

At a second glance, I notice two faces that aren’t so threatening. The most obvious one is Reno, who seems to be more preoccupied with fear. Elena is twiddling her thumbs, with her head hanging low. She looks up towards me and steps out the group.

“We’re really sorry,” Elena says. “I know it was wrong, but we didn’t mean any harm. We won’t do it again.”

As Elena speaks, all eyes are suddenly trained on her. And apparently, they’re not pleased with her apology. When Reno steps at her side, the atmosphere gets even worse.

“Course not!” he agrees. “And I won’t even touch your crystal... dragon… thingy…”

“Crystal Chinese New Year’s Dragon,” I repeat dryly.

Elena and Reno…that’s two names I’m putting on my “forgiven” list.

Jessie sneers and utters a loud “ha!” I turn to look at her. Something tells me that I’ll need a good set of earplugs.

“We don’t have to say sorry to this joke,” she declares. “Let’s be frank: You don’t belong here! And we don’t need a replacement. Do you really think you can just waltz right in here and mess with our lives as you please?”

I’m definitely missing something here.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, love,” I reply calmly. “To be quite honest, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was practically led here with a blindfold over my eyes. I scarcely knew where I was going or what I was going to do. I’m just here for the ride. But if you have a problem with that, you can **break** your toes for all I care.”

Jessie scowls in outrage but says nothing.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” I proceed, “I’d like to take a bath and get my day going. Please vacate the premises and shut the door behind you…”

While I’m speaking, I fail to notice that Zack is sneaking up on me. When my words scarcely leave my mouth, he grabs me and shoves me against the wall. I’m startled but not frightened. From the back, I hear Marlene’s screams, followed by the sound of small, running feet.

“You have a lot of smart things to say,” Zack snarls. “Don’t you?”

In an attempt to help me, nervous Elena runs forward and tries to pry his hands off my shoulders.

“Can we just calm down?” she pleads. “We’re not solving anything if we…”

In a brutal move, Zack releases one hand and gives her a rough push with his elbow. Elena falls to ground. Besides Reno, no one bothers to help her.

“That’s nice,” I say dryly. “You even push your friends around.”

“Shut up!” he spits.

It’s taken me awhile, but now, I’m starting to feel the first inklings of contempt towards him.

“Did you know our cook quit last night?” Zack questions.

“That’s a shame,” I answer sincerely. “I never got the chance to meet him.”

Apparently, he thinks I’m being flippant, so he grinds me into the wall again.

“ **She** quit because a certain ‘someone’ said her food sucked…and then they decided to do her job for her!”

A laugh slips through the corner of my mouth. This has to be a joke.

“Alright then,” I reply. “Three things. One, I never said anything about the food tasting bad. That was based on someone **else’s** assumption. I may not have liked the food, but I knew better than to say so. Two, I was **not** cooking for you. All I wanted was to make some food for my sister and me. Seph-chan came in, and he wanted one. So, he cracked a few more eggs. Tifa came in, and she wanted one… so she cracked a few more eggs and decided to make enough for everyone!”

The room is growing quieter and quieter. Something’s building up, and I can feel it.

“Third,” I finish, “If **she** left because of one complaint, then that’s **her** failing. Not mine.”

Zack still says nothing. He just stares me down. I look back at him without a shred of fear.

“But this isn’t about cooking,” I observe. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind? Why don’t you tell me what’s on everyone’s mind? I’m tired of being in the dark.”

Despite my attempts to reason with him, Zack becomes even angrier than ever. He grabs me by the collar of my shirt, almost enough to choke, and pulls me forward.

“Alright,” he hisses. “I’ll tell you. It’s just like Jessie said: you don’t belong here! You’re just a substitute for the real thing! We’ll never take orders from you!”

Orders? What has he been drinking?

“You think you own the whole place,” Zack goes on. “Don’t you? You come here, and it all goes your way…”

“Begging your pardon,” I argue, “But I’ve never acted that way! Not once! I just thought that…”

But Zack isn’t listening to me. You can’t get through to anyone who refuses to listen. I’m in the dark, and I’m suffocating. Yesterday, I believed I could handle this by weathering it out…but guess I’m wrong. This is more serious than I thought.

He slams me against the wall again, and my head knocks against it like a ball. I grit my teeth.

“We don’t need some pretty boy socialite bossing us around,” Zack mutters. “So why don’t you go on back to London…or South Africa…or wherever you live. Go back to boarding school. Go to cocktail parties. Go back to mummy and daddy, and take your spoiled little sister with you!”

And then, my hand comes up and collides with the side of his face. He loses his grip on me and falls to the floor.

The **hell** with this!

I march out the living room without a word and walk out of my suite. As steam-line my way through the hall, and I cross paths with Marlene and “the Calvary”. Seph-chan takes one look at my face and steps right out of the way. Tifa covers her mouth but says nothing. Shera goes pale and follows after me.

“Uh… Cloud?” she asks.

I reach the foyer at the front entrance, where the terra-cotta soldier is standing. I grab the spear and slide it out of the soldier’s hands.

For the most part, I’m a lover, **not** a fighter. Zack can say anything he wants to me. **That** I can take that. But no one—and I mean no one—talks about my parents as if they’re nothing—God bless their souls! And I’ll be **_damned_** if I let some piss-ant talk trash about my sister!

I feel a rather deranged smile on my face.

“Cloud…” Shera says nervously, “what on earth are doing with that spear!?”

I brush past her, carrying the pole of the spear over my shoulder, and casually return to my suite. Right at the door, I encounter Marlene sitting on Seph-chan’s shoulders. Tifa opens the door wide.

“They haven’t left,” Seph-chan notifies me.

“Please, give ‘em hell…” Tifa requests.

I nod gruffly and step back into my suite, clutching the spear with both hands.

Showtime…

When I walk back into the living room, Reno sees the weapon in my hands and gets as far away as possible. The rest are simply shocked that I would actually “dare” to return. I train my eyes in Zack’s general direction and stalk towards my prey.

Zack isn’t foolish enough not to figure out my intentions. He quickly starts to back away, and with a war cry, I speed up after, brandishing the spear like it’s going out of style! I close in on him near the couch, swing the blade around with a surprising finesse. And I’m actually having fun, watching him fumble over himself!

Reno dashes out the room like a bat out of hell. “I told you he was psycho!”

He trips on the coffee table and cracks the glass top. He climbs off and ends up backing into a corner.

Meat.

I look into his eyes, and my smile goes away.

“You’re the most pathetic mess I’ve ever seen,” I growl at him.

Zack briefly forgets the danger he’s in. “Why you little…”

He tries to stand up and grab the spear, and I thrust it mere centimeters from his face.

“Sit down and shut up, _you piece of shite_!” I yell at the top of my lungs.

I don’t know how I’m doing all of this, but right now, I couldn’t care less. None of the onlookers are coming to help him. Everyone’s too stunned to do it.

“Let’s get something straight,” I tell him. “I am **NOT** intimidated by you! My **mother** had more attitude! My **sister** has more balls than you!”

I remember what mum told me about tough situations, so I take deep breaths before speaking again.

“My mummy and daddy are dead… Zack!” I reveal to him. “Dead, as in six feet under! Dead as in doornail. My sister and I are orphans! None of my relatives care about me, and the only person who has custody over me is Miss Jenova di Luciano! So tell me… where do I belong?”

Zack swallows hard and doesn’t make a move to attack me again.

“I’m only doing what I was told to do,” I declare. “Most of my relatives just want money, so I can’t take Marlene back there. Not anymore. And now, we’re stuck in a foreign country with nowhere else to go. So excuse us for living!”

I think I hear a door clicking open, but I continue on anyway. It’s become quite clear that someone has to teach these jerks some manners.

“I don’t know where you came from,” I announce, “But from what I see, you’re just a barely privileged person who’s gotten hyped up on a rich woman’s money train! If you were, you would never have called me a **socialite** and goody-two-shoes at the same time. Because we ‘socialites’ can be a nasty bunch who know how to hurt you…in ways you can’t even imagine!”

Blood drips from the corner of Zack’s mouth, obviously from the armor piercing slap. He barely talks back in shaky voice. “I…uh…I…”

“I was never popular,” I go on. “I spent my boarding school ducking from bullies **twice** your size. I eat guys like you for breakfast, and I’m the nicest socialite you’ll ever meet!”

Zack swallows air, and I can see small circles under his eyes. I think I’ve finally gotten through his thick, little head. I push the blade closer. I’m not sure if I’m poking him or not.

“I’ve had hell for the past five months,” I tell him, “I came here to move on. And the last thing I need is to deal with a bunch of crass… highfalutin… hypocritical …oh, if only there was a better word for it! Bottom-line: you suck! I don’t want to live with you either! If you can’t stand me so much, then why don’t you just leave me the hell alone!?”

I hand falls gently on my shoulder, and it makes me flinch. It’s a stark contrast to the tension in the room. Zack sees something behind me and looks up in bewilderment.

“That’ll do, Princess,” Seph-chan interrupts. “That’ll do. He’s bleeding…”

He pries the spear out my hands. Zack has a cut on his face.

Bloody Mary…

“I thought I was going to punish you after this,” Seph-chan tells him. “But I think this will suffice for now.”

In a quick movement, he gives Zack a kick in the arm, earning a pained groan. I turn away.

It’s not really interesting if **_I’m_** not doing it.

“Now, get out of here,” Seph-chan commands them. “If you sneak in here again, I’ll kick the crap out of you **_myself_**! And don’t drip on the carpet, Zack.”

Zack gets to his feet and scrambles out the room with what’s left of his dignity. Everyone else follows at his heels.

All the while, I drag myself over to the safe haven of the couch to take a breather. The cracked glass top is staring me in the face.

Marlene races into the living room in a one-girl stampede. She skids to a stop at the couch and plops herself right next to me.

“Did you fight?” she asks. “You beat him, right?”

Shera steps into the room, surveying the damage. She wanders over to the couch.

“Is everyone crazy in this house, and someone forgot to tell me?” I ask her.

“They’re crazy?” she blanches. “Did you actually make him bleed? I knew you had a temper, but I didn’t think you were capable of being a complete nutso…”

“No, I’m not!” I disagree. “I just chased him around with a spear. I didn’t mean to actually cut him…”

Shera crosses her arms, giving me an incredulous brow. I stop for a moment, realizing what I’ve just said, realizing what I’ve done, and my jaw drops.

“Good God!” I cry. “I **am** a nutso!”

I cover my face in shame.

“Nutso!” Marlene sings.

“Shall I get you a cup of tea?” Shera offers.

I nod without looking at her. I lean back into the couch and heave a sigh. What a crappy morning…

\-----------

Instead of going to the main dining table, where everyone else would be, the five of us sit around my coffee table. Seph-chan promises to have it fixed. Marlene is fully aware something drastic has happened. That’s why she’s delighted to have this “tea party” (even though she’s drinking hot cocoa). 

“I knew I should’ve spoken to them,” Shera mourns. “Otherwise, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s better this way,” Tifa replies. “We shouldn’t have any more problems. Besides, you wouldn’t have gotten through.”

She turns to me with a sultry smirk. “That was thrilling, wasn’t it?”

“You’re no help!” Shera cries.

“Give it a rest,” Seph-chan interrupts. “Zack should know his place. He’s stubborn, so he’ll learn the hard way.”

“But shouldn’t we be getting along?”

I clear my throat and raise my voice without shouting.

“Am I missing something?”

The room grows deathly silently. There must be an epidemic of closed mouths in this household.

“Well?” I ask.

“It’s not important yet,” Shera tries to assure me. “You don’t have to think about it. It’s like what an old friend of mine used to say to me: ‘Don’t sweat the small stuff; you’ll get a rash’.”

I freeze. Those were… Nicky’s words. 

Shera offers me another cup of tea, and I politely refuse it. I excuse myself before leaving the room as quickly as I can.

As I walk along the wall, I get the crazy idea of eavesdropping… so I head back quietly. On the way, I literally bump into Marlene.

“They made me go,” she whines. “This is your suite, isn’t—”

“Shhh!”

Marlene puts her hands over her mouth and nods. We lean against the wall near the living room door and listen.

“Nice going,” Seph-chan say derisively. “Of all the things you could’ve said…”

“I’m sorry,” Shera squeaks. “It just slipped out. But… the changes aren’t supposed to be happening this fast! How was he even able to use that spear!?”

That’s an interesting piece of information. I lean a little closer to the door.

“Maybe something’s wrong,” she ponders. “Let’s ask Lucy. Maybe she’ll know…”

“Nothing’s wrong with him,” he argues. “We don’t need to call for anyone yet.”

I hear a slamming sound, and the china clatters on the table.

“You just don’t want to see her!” she shouts. “That’s it, isn’t it?!”

“Listen to what’s coming out your mouth,” he replies. “God… the Madame already told me that we have nothing to worry about anything. We just have to stay quiet.”

A chair slides out and gets pushed back into the table. Footsteps come towards the door. I grab Marlene’s arm and drag her towards my bedroom.

Safe behind the bedroom door, I’m finally able to breathe. The footsteps, however, are coming closer. Marlene and I stare nervously at each other. Maybe we’ve been found out after all…

The feet stop right behind the door on the other side. As soon as Marlene hears the knock, she rushes into my bathroom and shuts the door behind her.

The little Judas…

“Who is it?” I ask calmly.

“It’s Tifa. Listen… I’m going out this morning. I only have a permit, so I was going with Shera… but she has to stay behind and cook for everyone, so I’m going with Seph. Wanna come with us?”

“Why not?” I reply. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Great! We’ll have breakfast at a diner.”

I hear Tifa trotting away from the door, and my knees give out. I land gracelessly. Marlene opens the bathroom door and peaks out.

“Your bravery inspires me,” I say dryly.

Marlene wrinkles her nose at me. I roll my eyes and stand up.

“Go get dressed,” I tell her. “We’re going out.”

She grins from ear to ear and runs along to her room. Alone at last.

I walk towards my nightstand, and I see the envelope lying on top of my book, _The Garden of the Prophet_. I pick it up and open it to see what’s inside.

A small, rectangular block falls onto the surface with a clank; there’s a metal ring attached to it. It’s one of those new coded keys that were just invented in Tokyo. Perhaps, they’ve come to the U.S.

I remember last night clearly, when the “trespasser” had come. Like it or not, whoever Tseng was, he gave me more information in a minute than I’ve found here in a day. Everyone’s hiding something... something that I personally don’t like.

I reach inside the envelope and pull out a piece of paper. There’s a Manhattan apartment address written on it. I wonder if we’re going in that direction.

No, it’s a bad idea.

I shouldn’t be going to some random place, in a city I don’t even know, to possibly meet strangers.

**_“Just go, dear boy!”_** Nicky’s voice speaks into my head.

I nearly jump out of my skin. He chuckles quietly.

**_“There’s no use hanging around here all day. Come on! Let’s go have fun… like I promised…”_ **

And then, I hear no more.

Great. Is this bloke going to do that to me from now on?

Nevertheless, I do need answers, and none of my newfound friends (or enemies) are giving me any.

And the idea… is quite tempting…


	6. Awakening - Chapter Five: Pandemonium in between

An hour and a half later, I’m playing “Minute Waltz” by Chopin on my pianoforte. Marlene’s sits beside me and yawns. My stomach grumbles.

If there’s something that ticks me off more than belligerent idiocy, it has to be tardiness. Here I am, all dressed and ready to go (which I have been for the past half-hour), and no one has come.

No, I didn’t come from the most uptight family on the face of the planet, but I’m the child of a white-collar father and a businesswoman/homemaker. I’m very used to order and punctuality.

If even Marlene can understand such a concept, why can’t everyone else?

I wonder what kind of enterprise this “Madame” woman runs. Because if she hires personnel who act like the people in this household… I would be the last person to ever seek out her services.

If I had my way, I’d go about whipping everyone into shape around here...

I stop for a moment, and konk myself on the head.

_Don’t be arrogant,_ I warn myself.

I notice that Marlene’s been staring at my hands.

“Find something interesting?” I ask her.

“How can you play so well with both your hands?”

“Practice.”

“How much practice?”

“Depends on the pianist.”

Marlene folds her arms, letting the information sink into her head. I start to play again.

“Are you sure you couldn’t teach me?” Marlene asks for the millionth time.

 “How?” I ask.

“Like Daddy taught you,” she answers.

“When?”

“After you come back from college.”

“What about my homework?”

“How much will it be?”

“It depends on what classes I have to take.”

“But you won’t take too many, _right_?”

I suck in a deep breath. Marlene’s staring at me with those beady, pitiful eyes again. She’s knows I’m weak for towards this spittle.

“Compromise?” I ask.

Marlene nods graciously. “Two hours a day?”

“After I get out from college,” I reply.

Marlene bobs her head up and down.

“And if it doesn’t work, we’ll get a tutor.”

She nods faster, satiated.

“And when you get a feel for it,” I continue, “You’ll practice everyday while I’m at school.”

“What?!” Marlene cries. “Why?”

“Because that’s what it takes, darling,” I answer. “So, you still want to learn?”

Marlene stubbornly presses up her lower lip. “I can take it!”

The way she’s putting her face reminds me of a sad bulldog. It’s so terribly funny that I have to laugh. Marlene frowns, obviously upset with me.

“What’s so funny?!” she cries angrily.

I try to hold it back, but I fail miserably. I pat Marlene on her little head, but she is still not amused.

“I’ll start teaching you when we get back, okay?” I offer.

Her face lights up, somewhat, and she agrees without question. But then, her stomach growls too, and she’s not content for long…

“Um, can we just start now?” poor Marlene whines. “They’re taking too long!”

“Patience is a virtue,” I say (half-heartedly).

Marlene wrinkles her nose and snubs me.

“Patience is a virtue,” she repeats sarcastically.

“You little pinhead,” I mutter back.

“Who you calling a pinhead?! I’m not the one who has porcupine living on **my** head…”

I prepare to make a scathing retort, but suddenly, the sitting room doors are thrust open in an audible display. In walks my dear new friend, Seph-chan, who appears to be rather pissed off. He stops a few feet in front of the entrance and slams the door behind him. Marlene winces beside me. I simply stare.

“Women!” he curses aloud.

His condition is obvious: a hoarse voice, a reddening face, the gnashing of the teeth…and if I’m not mistaken, his left eye is twitching. In his left hand, he’s holding a violin.

“What about them?” I ask.

“Why do they always make you wait?!”

Marlene’s face lights up. “It’s because they have more things to do. Like… um... make-up… perfume… curling irons… stockings, and… things like that!”

The room quiets down again. Seph-chan just stands there, for a minute or two, and then, he shrugs his shoulders in a resigned fashion.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” he mumbles.

As I turn back to my piano, I hear a small thump on the couch. Marlene raises her chin a triumph. 

“I can I go get a snack?” she asks.

“Alright,” I allow. “But don’t make it a big one, okay?”

She nods and slides off the piano bench. As I watch my sister disappear, I already know that she’s not going to be eating much at the restaurant.

I turn the pages of my music book, looking for a new song. All of them seem so boring today. From the couch, I hear a shrill but pleasant sound; Seph-chan is tuning the violin. I smile and continue.

“So, how long have you been playing?” he asks.

“Since I was five years old,” I reply. “And you?”

“Ten years old,” he answers.

“And how old are you?”

“I’ll be twenty-three this Christmas.”

“You’ve been practicing a year more than me.”

“That’s fast math.”

“You think I skipped a few grades for nothing?”

Seph-chan laughs in agreement. He positions the violin at his chin.

“I’ve actually seen you in magazines,” he admits. “And a few newspapers.”

I freeze for a moment, not yet knowing what he was speaking about. I think on it a bit until the penny drops.

About four years ago, when I was twelve, I played in a holiday concert for a college. Then, between the ages of thirteen and fifteen, I was asked a few times to play with a small orchestra for some songs for some classical music CD.

And then, I wonder if that was the ironic reason as to **why** I was so unpopular in school.

“Around Christmastime?” I ask curiously. “Four years ago?”

“I saw that too,” Seph-chan answers. “But I’ve seen more than that.”

“Hmm,” I muse. “My little ‘debut’.”

“Little?” he replies skeptically. “You were a small fry playing for a bunch of adults. And then there’s the CDs you made.”

“They weren’t mine,” I correct him. “I was being featured on other people’s collection.”

Seph-chan frowns at me and plays several notes on the violin. I recognize the tune immediately: something from Mozart. He stops for a moment, glares at me with his cat-like eyes (which are rather intimidating at the moment) and says:

“What are you being so modest about?”

“I’m not being modest,” I reply defensively. “I’m being realistic. Lots of children are doing amazing things these days. That’s the nature of mankind. Always evolving. It’s nothing new.”

“Yeah right, Princess.”

Did he just call me “Princess”?

He grunts in disapproval but says nothing more. I raise my eyebrow at him for moment and then turn away. I continue looking for a song in my music book, when suddenly, the most awful idea pops into my head.

“I wonder,” I think aloud.

“What?” he inquires.

“Maybe that’s why my relatives were really trying to get custody of me,” I think aloud. “That’s why they...”

“Well, I’m sure they had other reasons too,” Seph-chan interrupts.

“What else could they want?” I question. “There is money involved, but…”

“And with that pretty face of yours,” he proclaims, “Any woman would want you in her home… you get my drift?”

 “You’re _disgusting_ …” I answer quickly, trying not to smile.

“Yeah, but I’m on _your_ side.”

After several seconds, I realize that I hadn’t gotten angry when he mentioned my looks. I flip another page in the music book and find “Ave Maria”. Soft and gentle. That’s what I need right now. I flex my fingers and reach for the keys.

“Have you been having daydreams?” Seph-chan inquires.

I stop in my tracks. A lump builds in my throat. I look at him again, but I don’t speak.

“You have,” he decided. “Let me rephrase that… what have you been daydreaming about?”

“Why?” I ask bluntly.

“That’s a funny reply…”

“ **Why**?!”

I watch him flinch under the tone I’ve adopted. I had no idea I could be so pushy. Nevertheless, my companion draws some breath and answers.

“Two nights ago,” he began, “Before I caught you with my food, you were having a conversation with someone.  I didn’t know if it was a phone conversation or you weren’t alone, so I came in… but I saw no one. But… someone had been there with you. Am I right?”

At first, I tempted to reveal everything to him. But…

“I’m afraid I don’t owe you an explanation,” I find myself saying. “If you won’t tell me this big secret that everyone is hiding from me, then I see no reason for me to tell you **_my_** business. That seems about fair, eh?”

I expect Seph-chan to be completely miffed by such an answer. Instead, he positions the violin to his chin again.

“Yeah,” he replies. “It **_does_**.”

A knock comes at the door, and he moves the violin away from his chin. Shera comes in without receiving an invitation. In her hands, she’s carrying a small, silver tray with a folded envelope.

“Seph, you have a message from the Madame,” she says.

“I’ll read it later,” he responds.

Shera ignores his answer and holds the tray out insistently. “It appears urgent.”

“Shera, it can’t be that urgent if she sent it in the mai—”

“Very urgent…”

He relents with a sigh, puts his violin to the side, and takes the envelope. Shera holds the tray at her stomach and waits. He scans the front of the envelope.

“Though, I don’t see why the Madame send you a typed message,” Shera muses. “Why doesn’t she just make a phone call?”

“Maybe, she didn’t want anyone to hear what she has to say,” he supposes.

He shakes the paper out of its folds and puts on his reading glasses, which makes him look remarkably studious. But since the letter appears to be of none of my concern, I resume playing “Ave Maria”. I flex my fingers once again and weave away at the keys.

The tune is very comforting.

 

\---------

 

Ten minutes later and at long last, Tifa is ready to go. Her lateness had been easily explained: she spilled make-up all over her face and well-chosen outfit and had to pick out another. After a few short apologies, we all heads towards the garage with a single purpose.

Unfortunately, no one has any idea of what that is.

“What do you mean you didn’t pick a place to go?” Tifa complains.

Her three-inch heels click on the tile floor. I’m reminded of the “dream” I had this morning…but my heels were two, bloody inches higher.

“What do you mean _I_ didn’t pick a place?” Seph-chan defends. “I’m just driving.”

“Can we go to Manhattan?” Marlene asks.

“That’s a bit far off,” Tifa argues.

“I don’t care,” Seph-chan announced. “Just a pick a place…”

I realize that I haven’t put any input into the argument, but I’m not eager to join in. Although, the apartment key and Manhattan address are burning a hole in my pocket. The question is, should I or should I not?

Marlene tugs on the corner of my shirt. I look down to see what she needs.

“Where do **you** want to go?” she asks innocently.

Immediately, three pairs of eyes are trained on me, as if all of our lives were hanging on my decision. The apartment key speaks to me in an alluring whisper. I throw caution (and my conscience) to the wind. I bless and curse my sister.

“Well,” I answer (in feigned uncertainty), “I’m hungry now…so, why don’t we stop at a nearby restaurant and head to Manhattan afterwards. I’ve never been to New York before, and I...”

“There we go,” Seph-chan mutters in relief.

Tifa shrugs submissively and yanks her purse around her shoulder.

“The shops are better in Manhattan,” she agrees (more so to herself than us). “I’ve been itching to go to Fifth Avenue.”

She then turns to me, on purpose, with a smile on her face.

“But it probably won’t be as good as Harrods.”

“Nothing’s better than Harrods,” I answer with pride.

“Uhuh!” Marlene chirps.

We all quietly enter the kitchen, knowing that my enemies are nearby. Shera is working quietly over the stove. She grabs a long, metal tube that’s propped next to her and tosses it over to Seph-chan; he catches it without trouble. She waves us a silent good-bye as we pass. He tugs a strap attached to the tube and slings it over his shoulder.

The backdoor is facing the opposite direction of the pantry, and the door to the dining room is in between. All of us, including Marlene, become extremely quiet as we hurry forward. Seph-chan opens the door, and the creak of the hinges causes us to wince. But we’re not discovered. One by one, we dart into the safety of the outside and shut the door.

The garage, a modest sized car house, is only a walkway ahead. Our pace has became rather hurried, but Marlene surprisingly keeps up with ease. Outside of it, in a large cul-de-sac, an older man is washing a beautiful Aston Martin with careful strokes. He waves hello to us as we go into the car house.

At once, I’m met with an amazing sight. Parked in two neat rows in the garage, there are a dozen luxury cars, and that doesn’t include the limousines. Lincoln, Mercedes-Benz, BMW, and most of all… a Rolls Royce?!  All of the keys were inside a glass case, located on the wall.

I’ve never wanted to drive as much as I do now.

As we walk through the succession of vehicles, Tifa makes an earnest request. “Can we take an SUV?”

“You’re not planning on buying out a store, are you?” Seph-chan asks.

“I have to buy a whole bunch a new shirts,” she replies honestly.

“You bought some two months ago.”

“I can’t wear them anymore. I…”

Tifa stops talking, and her cheeks flush visibly.

“What?”

“THEY’RE GETTING TIGHT AROUND THE CHEST, OKAY?!”

The car house becomes remarkably silent. Tifa folds her arms across her chest (probably not a good move), turns her head from him, and huffs. I’m not sure what to say, but my companion remains absolutely unmoved by the embarrassing confession.

“Tell your brain to stop sending hormones to breasts… before they explode!” he mutters indifferently.

“Eat garbage, Seph!”

He walks away, ignoring her, mumbling something about getting the SUV’s keys.

I clear my throat (for courage). “So, what restaurant are we going to?”

Tifa doesn’t have an answer. By now, Seph-chan has gotten the keys to one of the cars, and he opens the driver’s door. Tifa, Marlene, and I migrate over and open the doors to get in. He starts the car, and it wakes up rumbling. 

As if I’m halfway in the front passenger door, I hear something and stop.From a distance, I can hear the sound of panting and running footsteps. They’re coming our way. The older man turns from his work and waves at someone. A few seconds later, Reno and Elena come hightailing into the garage like they were being chased by the Devil.

The stampede ends at the car, where the two of them forcefully get into the back seats. Reno accidentally jostles me.

“S-sorry,” he stammers. “Please don’t kill me…”

“Why the hell are you here!?” Seph-chan asks, exasperated.

More passengers meant more people to look after.

“We’re fugitives!” Reno announces. “That’s why!”

“Just drive, okay?” Elena chimes in. “We’ll even pay for our own food!”

Seph-chan grumbles under his breath but says nothing more. Reno and Elena take it as a disgruntled “okay” and buckle up their seatbelts.

 

\----------

 

A couple of hours later, after stopping at a casual, breakfast bistro in town, my entire posse was off, continuing on to the port. There, the ferry would take us to Manhattan.

The drive has been strangely long, considering that New Jersey is a small state. I’m seated in shotgun, so I’ve had good view of the road, front to side. The landscape is different from where I come from; everything is mostly green. Definitely not better... but different.

“So, you’re from South America?” Reno asks suddenly.

The car hits an uneven spot on the road and jumps. No one really pays attention to it.

“South Africa,” Marlene corrects bluntly.

“Right,” Reno murmurs. “So, what’s it like living near the jungle?”

“Very hot during the winters,” I answer. “And cold during the summers.”

“Isn’t that backwards?”

“Are you for real?” my companion answers. “South Africa is in the Southern Hemisphere. While we’re having winter, they’re having summer. When we’re having summer, they’re having winter. Got it?”

“Why would it do that?” Reno asks.

“Didn’t you ever pay attention in geology?”

“I got a D in that class.”

“That’s no surprise to me,” Marlene mutters.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Reno challenges.

Marlene shrugs and doesn’t answer. Tifa snickers under her breath. Elena is listening to her Ipod Nano. Seph-chan and I wash our hands clean of the situation.

“Well, I may have bombed geology,” Reno admits. “But I got all A’s in math, PE, and English. I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but you’re too smart for your own good, girly!”

“Deal with it, numbnuts,” Marlene retorts.

As I watch the car ride turn hellish, I make a note to myself. As soon as we get back, I’m debriefing Marlene on what she may have learned while I was in boarding school.

As Marlene and Reno begin their merry war, the burdened driver turns to me and begins a conversation.

“So, which do you miss more?” Seph-chan prodded. “England or South Africa?”

“Definitely South Africa,” I respond quickly. “I don’t miss England all that much. London especially.”

“Why not?”

“Not sure if I enjoyed living there. English high society…it’s full of boars and snobbery. The streets are dingy. The Thames stinks. The food wasn’t always very good either. The only thing that really matters there are the tourist attractions… like Buckingham Palace… the Bloody Tower… Kew Gardens… Stonehenge… the theater... and Harrods. But to be quite honest, there’s really nothing else. And those terrorist attacks… in the subway stations and elsewhere. My dad told me that they’re worst than twenty years ago…”

I peak behind my shoulder to see what’s going on. Marlene and Reno are glaring at each other.

“So, what do you miss about South Africa?”

I sit back in my seat and think on it for a while. The car runs over another bump in the road.

“The colors,” I answer. “There were so many colors. In the trees…in the vineyards…in the butterflies…in the birds…Dad liked to feed the birds that hung around the house. Mum made the gardeners plant lots of flowers... I miss the smell of the ocean too. I miss that large house we had there... I think that’s been left to me in the will. And the people were **_nicer_** to boot. ”

My companion holds in a snicker. I strain my neck again to look behind me, and Marlene and Reno are having a brutal staring contest. Fueled by an obvious grudge, my little sister is winning.

“I don’t I like you!” she snarls. “You’re mean for **absolutely** no reason! You made Cloud drop my Happy Meal!”

“Relax, toots,” Reno rejoins. “Big brother made me buy you a new one.”

“I’m not a toots,” Marlene shoots back. “You…you ruffian!”

Reno frowns in disbelief. “Do you even know what that means?”

“It’s a synonym for bully,” she responds confidently. “It also means ‘brute’.”

“How old are you again?” he asks.

“Five years and two months.”

Reno blinks and loses. I smirk in silent pride.

“And what about you,” I ask. “Where are you from?”

“That’s hard to say,” Seph-chan answers. “I was born in Sicily but lived in Germany, and then I got shipped to Australia when I was eight. And then, when I was sixteen, I started going to different countries like Morocco, Russia, France, Scotland, China, Canada… lots of places. And for months at a time. I said goodbye to Aussie again about three months ago, and I probably won’t be coming back. And I’ve been in and out Italy all my life…”

“And you miss Australia?”

“Very much… I could always relax. I liked the sea, and the air was great. And then, there was the ol’ Opera House...”

“Didn’t that get renovated a few years ago?”

He nods.

“What else?” I inquire.

“Hmm…well, I miss the beaches…I went there very often when I was a teenager…I sometimes rode the surf for relaxation…I miss the ports… the New Year’s fireworks at Sydney harbor… and Perth. But I guess…what I really miss…”

He quickly stops talking and doesn’t finish. I give him a puzzled look, and his eyes are on the road. There’s an unpleasant expression on his face: lowered eyes and a tightly closed mouth.

“Obviously,” I finally say, “What I really miss most about my home... my real home... are my parents. I still had so many questions… and we all had plans for the future. Sure, I can always go back to South Africa again; that would make me happy. But even if I did, Mum and Dad won’t be there. I can have Cape Town, but I can’t have them…”

“Then your situation is worse than mine,” Seph-chan answers.

For a moment, he looks away from the road and gives me a canny smile.

“What do you mean?”

Tifa is leaning forward in her seat, listening to the conversation. My companion looks at her and then at me… and then at her again.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Reno croons from the backseat.

“Ah, stay out of this,” Seph-chan barks.

Reno pays no heed to the warning and sets his eyes on me. I have a strange feeling that another drastic thing is about to happen.

“Listen,” Reno says to me. “The only reason that Seph misses good ol’ Aussie is because he had to leave Lucy behind...”

“Oh, for the love of God!” Seph-chan fumes. “That’s not it at all! You know we can’t stand each other!”

I recognize that a flush is spreading across his face.

“Ah, sweet Lucille,” Reno trilled maliciously. “Deep down, all you want is to wrap your arms around that tight little body… and pull her into a warm embrace…”

The driver growls and attempts to ignore him. But Reno is encouraged all the more.

“And whisper sweet nothings in her ear,” he drawls, “And taste her luscious, honey lips…”

“Why would you think that?” I blurt out (rather stupidly). “Is she pretty?”

“Nah,” Reno replies. “Lucy’s kinda on the plain side, but she’s got a sexy body, **_damned_** good legs… and she’s fiery. Seph likes ‘em fiery.”

“She only looks plain to you,” Seph-chan interrupts, “Because you’ve never seen her without her glasses! Lucy only wears them because she’s thinks she looks childish without them.”

“Ah,” Reno coos. “See how he defends the woman he loves…”

Seph-chan stifles an angry yell. I grit my teeth beside him.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this again!” my companion yells. “Lucy is my **older** step-sister!”

“Sis-con!”

In a small instance, I think I see Seph-chan popping a vein in his neck. He turns back to the road, saying nothing, tapping his middle finger on the steering wheel. After a moment of thought, he nods to himself and unbuckles his seatbelt.

He looks my way and asks:

“You got your driving permit, right?”

“ _Yes_?” I reply.

“Take the wheel,” he instructs me.

“Why ever for?!”

“Because I’m going to hurt Reno very badly…”

 

\---------

 

Seph-chan had been true to his word. I thought he was joking at first, so I laughed and actually reached for the wheel in jest. But no sooner had I clenched it, he leapt into the back and pursued Reno like a tiger after a deer. While Reno howled in terror, I was left to scramble for the pedals (I had never moved so fast in my entire life). Luckily, I got the SUV going again, and we only earned an angry honk from the car behind. 

Tifa desperately tried to calm him down, while Elena tried to pry his hands off of Reno. Marlene squeezed herself near the passenger door and roared with macabre happiness.

And the most insane part about whole the business? I drove steadily on, taking in the whole thing with a supernatural calmness. Like I was _used_ to it…

Not that I’m not judgmental my companion; I’m no better than him…

And now, twenty minutes later, I am still driving at the wheel, and dear Seph-chan is now sitting at shotgun. He’s looking at Reno with a savage glare; his feline eyes make it all the more menacing. Reno is cowering in his seat. Marlene has a sneer on her dainty lips. I say nothing.

“Really, Seph,” Elena scolds. “Are you crazy?”

“Very,” he answers (with an evil curve of the lip).

“Well, I don’t blame him,” Tifa interrupts. “Reno, you can be really insensitive sometimes!”

“I was only telling the truth,” Reno declared. “Geez, Seph…you and Cloud should start a club, and he get’s to be president!”

“You moron!” Sep-chan hisses. “It wasn’t true at all!”

“If it’s not …then why get all defensive about it?”

Seph-chan lets out a snarl and produces—to my surprise—a pocket knife from his jacket. Reno cringes and finally closes his dumb mouth. 

“Though that was pretty good driving,” Tifa compliments me. “If it weren’t for you, we’d be screwed!”

“Just putting my driving skills to the test,” I reply (in as much humility as I can hold).

Tifa leans close to my seat, and I can smell her perfume. I feel her hand slipping past my shoulder, and my hormones hit the roof.

“Say,” she whispers. “One of these days, you can drive me instead…”

“I... I hope so,” I manage to say.

I feel her breath for a moment, which nearly hampers my driving. Elena clears her throat from the back.

“So!” she says. “Are we headed to Fifth Avenue first or Bloomingdales?”

Tifa withdraws and scoots closer to speak with her friend.

“Why not Fifth Avenue?” Tifa suggests. “I wanna go to Saks.”

“I love Saks!” Marlene proclaims.

“Fifth Avenue it is,” Seph-chan mumbles quietly. He turns to me and says, “Remember to take the next exit, okay?”

I sit back into the driver’s seat, only to feel the key in my pocket again. A lump forms in my throat.

“I saw this cool new gown from Robert Cavali,” Elena announces. “I wanna buy it so bad.” 

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Tifa warns. “Cavali has nice looking things, but the cloth they use is crap. Just like Versace.” 

“What’s Cavali?” Marlene asks. 

“It’s an overpriced brand store,” Tifa replies bitterly. 

“Cavali isn’t crap!” Elena snaps. 

“Then why does it look old after you take it to the cleaners?” Tifa questions. 

“You’re not supposed to wear a brand outfit more than once.” 

“That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. And it’s a total waste of money!” 

A girls’ argument is always terribly funny. I perk up my ears to listen, but for some reason, I feel my mind drifting. 

“But then how do I keep up with the latest fashions?” Elena whines. 

“It won’t kill you if you don’t wear the same clothes as everyone else,” Tifa informs. “Isn’t that boring?” 

Their voices are becoming very distant. I hardly notice the next bump in the road. It’s a wonder I’m still keeping the car going. 

“So how come **_you’re_** going to shop?” Elena asks in accusation. 

I hear Tifa scoff and proudly answer, “Because I am now officially a 36D. I don’t have a choice…” 

I don’t hear the rest. My mind is drifting... floating away...

 


	7. Awakening - Chapter Six: One step closer

_Somehow, when I can see the light again, I know that I’m “daydreaming” again. It’s quiet. It’s too quiet. I’m lying on something hard._

_I don’t like it when things start out that way._

_Where exactly am I ? I thought I was in the car._

_I was, wasn’t I?_

_I sit up and stretch myself. My back hurts a little. The ceiling is several feet above me, laced with bars and neon lights. I must be in a factory of some sort._

_I crane my neck, and I notice that I’m lying down on a wooden crate. I turn my head from side to side, to gain my bearings. There are wooden crate everywhere. Many are stacked on top of each other, forming walls and alleys. It reminds me of a maze._

_I slide off the box, and I accidentally shift the top. I smell something strange inside. My curiosity peeks, so I lift the top a little bit and reach inside. I end up pulling out a cigarette case. A harmless looking cigarette case._

_I open it up and pull one out. I put it to my nose and sniff. It’s not tobacco. The smell is familiar… dreadfully familiar. It smells like… like... some sort of drug… it’s cannabis!_

_Marijuana!_

_But… I’ve never smelled a drug in my entire life. Haven’t I?_

_“Narcotics,” I whisper to myself. “Why the bloody hell am I in a narcotics factory!?”_

_To be quite honest, I couldn’t care **where** I am!_

_I put the “cigarettes” back, and I throw the case back into the wooden box. I shove the top back in place for good measure. Then, I quickly move away and wander through a forest of cargo, trying to find a way out of this factory of death. The whole place suddenly reeks of marijuana and some other forms of drugs that I don’t want to identify._

_I hear a loud noise that sounds much like a bursting tire. My eyes dart from side to side, and I duck cautiously behind the closest tower of death cargo. From a good distance, I can hear the panicked voices of several people._

_“Over here!” a voice calls out._

_Men are shouting and running towards some spot that’s far away. I scoot near the edge of the crate and try to take a sneaking peek around the corner. From here, it’s easy to discover what kind of people are in the factory; most of them are tall, stocky, suit-clad men who look like bouncers at nightclubs. Seven of them are dark-skinned, two are Spaniards… and then there’s a small, dapper looking man who should be at a cocktail party. Most likely the boss…_

_“Well, what are you standing here for?!” he shouts. “Fan out and find him!”_

_His accent sounds smooth yet thuggish, right out of a Godfather movie. The Mafia._

_Royally buggered._

_I slide away from the edge and take a deep breath, just like mother told me. There has to be some way out of here. There just has to be._

_A hand clamps over my mouth. My heart skips a beat._

_“Stay calm,” a voice whispers. “It’s just me.”_

_I roll my eyes as far as they can go, and Nicky is sitting right behind be. He puts a gloved finger to his lips and urges me to stay quiet. He takes his hand away from me and scoots back into the wooden boxes behind us. I do the same._

_“How many did you see back there?” he whispers._

_I surprisingly have the answer. “Twenty-one.”_

_Nicky pulls a small remote out of his jacket pocket. It only has one button… a large, red one._

_“Stand up,” he commands hastily._

_I scramble to my feet, and he gets up as well. He rubs his thumb over the remote._

_“Five questions, my friend,” he says. “Five.”_

_“I beg your pardon?” I respond._

_“Five questions, and you will know what everyone is hiding from you.”_

_Upon hearing this, I perk up my ears. Nicky peaks around the corner of the tower and slips back into hiding. He reaches over and clutches my wrist. He places his thumb on the red button of the remote. The voices are coming a little closer._

_He squeezes my wrist and leans close. I hear someone shouting incoherently._

_“When I count to five,” he says. “I’m going to push this button, and we’re going to run like **hell**.”_

_I nod reluctantly, and I feel my heart pounding in my throat. Nicky takes a deep breath and counts._

_“One… two…”_

_The voices are coming a bit closer by now, but they’re far enough away. Nicky holds up the remote with his eye on the button. He grins devilishly, and my hair stands on end. I gulp almost audibly and start thinking of Psalms 23. Some of the voices have gone off into different directions, but others are moving ever closer._

_“Three… four…”_

_“The bastard’s still here!” the boss shouts again. “Come on! Move it! He can’t be that hard to find.”_

_“Five!” Nicky sings and pushed the red button. The factory shakes with a violent explosion; the men scream and yell in surprise. Nicky jerks me forward, nearly dislocating my arm, and leads me into a crazed dash. My adrenaline helps me to keep up. The smell of drugs is overpowered by smoke and possibly C4 powder._

_C4 powder?_

_Nicky makes very sharp turns, strategically weaving his way through the boxes, and I hold on tight to his hand. Another explosion (much closer this time) almost knocks me face first onto the floor; it’s a miracle that I keep my balance. A wooden box falls in front of us and busts all over the floor, but by now, we’re in hyper drive, and I find myself leaping over it without a thought._

_Finally, I can see a window up ahead and a large, wooden crate underneath it. Nicky speeds up all the more, and then, I know what’s coming._

_This is going to suck…_

_“Brace yourself and hold your breath!” he shouts._

_“Eeep!” I squeak out._

_At that moment, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Nicky’s grip tightens on my hand. A third explosion shakes the ground. We jump onto the top of the box and leap. I close my eyes, and we crash right through the window and to the outside._

_I expect to be stopped by the ground, but instead, I keep falling. I open my eyes to find out why, and I stifle a scream. There would be no earth to break this fall … only water. Lots and lots of water..._

_I remember to hold my breath, and we drop into the water together with a gaudy splash._

_It’s cold! It’s really, really cold!_

_Nicky lets go of my hand and swims up to the surface. I’m a superb swimmer (thanks to Daddy), so I don’t have to follow my “friend” immediately (not that I want to). From underneath the water, I can still see the building going up in smoke. Debris is falling into the water, all around me. I watch a piece of wood float to the bottom, and I can see some fish swimming away out of the way._

_Finally, I swim up to the surface and gasp. Nicky is laughing in mirth and amusement. I am angry. I am bloody angry..._

_“And that’s why you should just say ‘no’ to drugs!” he quotes._

_I scowl and let my mouth sink under the water. I suck some of it into my mouth, and it tastes very salty; I must be in some ocean or sea. I look around, and I see a large boulder in the distance, protruding out of the water._

_“What’s the matter?” Nicky asks cluelessly._

_I raise my head and spit water into his face. I turn around and swim for the rock by myself._

\-----------

_A few minutes later, Nicky and I are sitting comfortably on the rock. I’ve refused to look at him for the whole time. A sailboat is floating towards us in the distance. As a result of being in so much water, my hair has lost all of its spikiness and it’s practically covering my face. I had no idea it was **so** long._

_“Ah, come on,” he pouts. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad. I just wanted to get your heart pumping…”_

_“Well excuse me if I want my heart beating at a normal pace!” I retort._

_Nicky chuckles and snakes an arm around me. I flinch._

_“I like you,” he murmurs. “So simple …”_

_I stick up my nose and huff in reply. He simpers on._

_“You’d better be nicer to me,” he declared. “Otherwise, I might not tell you … those five questions …”_

_At once, my indignation disappears. Nicky see the change in mood and grins with a set of very white teeth._

_“That’s better …”_

_The sailboat is closer now, almost at a short swimming range. Nicky waves his arms in the air, possibly to get the pilot’s attention. The boat keeps coming, and he clears his throat. He counts on his fingers._

_“One,” Nicky starts, “What kind of business does “the Madame” run and what services does it provide? Two … who are those people in that manor and from where did they all come from? Three … what is waiting for you at the Manhattan address and why? Four, how are your parents and the Madame connected?”_

_My parents?_

_The sailboat is so close that I can now see a woman and two men on the boat. They shout in victory, and Nicky blows them an exaggerated kiss._

_“Burn, baby!” the woman cheers. “Burn!”_

_“I love you too, guys!” Nicky cries._

_For some reason, I can’t help but quiver in excitement, even at the morbidness of it all. But then, I remember the subject at hand and grab at Nicky’s shirt._

_“And five?” I ask._

_“Five?” he replies. “Ah, five … the most important question of all. Five … five … five …”_

_“And?” I urge impatiently._

_“Who is Nicoli?”_

_The last question strikes me. Nicky’s eyes travel back towards the boat, and the three people are beckoning him to come._

_“But don’t I know **that**?” I question._

_Nicky smirks unpleasantly, and I shrink away._

_“Yes … that’s right,” he answers. “You already know …”_

\-----------

 

And then, the vision quickly falls away—no—it feels more like it’s being ripped away. Gradually, the air becomes warmer and warmer, and I’m bone dry again. The rock isn’t under me anymore, and it feels as if I’m not sitting on anything … as if… I’m being carried.   

Yes, yes... someone _is_ carrying me. A pair of very, strong arms is carrying me. I relax and enjoy the ride. The side of my face is resting in something smooth and silky. It smells… like Mum. 

It calms me down right away.

Yes, just like Mum. It reminds me of the times that she would carry me piggyback in Cape Town, not far from the vineyards I grew up next to. We always went through the same path in the woods. When we reached our destination, the housemaid would have gone ahead of us and prepared a fancy picnic. 

I can taste the grapes already... 

But during that walk, my only concern would be Mum’s impressively strong arms and the scent of her hair... and occasionally, the distant smell of baboons. 

I’ve been told that my hair smells exactly the same as hers. I remember that it was an unearthly scent. The aroma of a flower from heaven... that’s what Dad called it. I smile at the wonderful memory, and a good feeling washes over me. I consider going to sleep. 

“Why is **_he_** riding piggyback?!” a voice grouses. “What about all the times you’ve woken me up during a trip? Why didn’t you carry me? I’ve known you longer!” 

“That’s because I like him better than you,” another voice replied. 

My eyes flash open, and I finally become aware of my surroundings. I smell water. I hear people chattering in the distance. 

From what I can tell, my posse must have finally boarded the ferry to Manhattan. How long have I been out! 

Reno is standing a few feet from me, and I appear to be elevated over him. He’s frowning at first, but when he notices that I’m out of my spell, his expression softens. In his arms, he’s cradling the long metal container that Seph-chan had brought. 

And then, I turn my head and realize that the person carrying me is tall … with platinum hair … with two, green, catlike eyes ... and a Cheshire grin ... 

FU—! 

“So the Princess finally returns from Lala land,” he declares. 

“Put me down!” I shout. “Put me down! What are you doing? Do I look like I’m five!?” 

“You’re drooling like one.” 

I put my hand to my mouth and find that I am indeed. 

Somebody kill me, please. 

“I don’t drool!” Marlene protests. 

“It doesn’t apply to you,” Reno answers. “You’re not normal.” 

Marlene sticks out her red lapdog’s tongue. Seph-chan caters to my demand and kneels down. I frantically climb off of his back. Reno hands him the metal tube, and he hangs it around his shoulder again. 

“But I was driving a moment ago, wasn’t I?” I asked. “What happened?” 

“You feel asleep as soon as you parked the car,” Reno said. “Fine time to have a mind-screw—” 

“For the last time, Reno,” my companion deadpans, “please shut your mouth.” 

Mind-screw? 

I have a glance around, and I see that there are no chairs on the ferry. Only a few occupied benches in the middle. People are everywhere. There are no windows, only open space, and the rail is very close to us.

From a distance, Tifa and Elena are leaning against it together. Elena has a dirty look on her face and tries to speak to Tifa, who is insisting on ending their argument. However, when the girls see that I’m back to normal, Tifa pushes herself off the rail and makes her way back to the group. Elena follows, still jabbering away. 

“Who knew that true friendship could be threatened in the face of Robert Cavali, Chanel, and Juicy Couture,” Seph-chan ponders in wonder. 

“Don’t forget Versace, Prada, and Oscar de la Renta,” Reno adds. 

“You’re fashion literate?” I ask in surprise. 

Reno’s head sinks. “My mom made me go shopping with her.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Marlene replies callously. “Mummy made us shopping with her too… and Cloud says **he** likes it…” 

Reno and Seph-chan grimace at me, making me feel quite small. 

Oooooh, that sister of mine … 

I feel a tug at my jacket. Tifa clears her throat and takes out a thing of Dramamine from her purse. 

“You need this?” she asks. 

“No,” I reply. “I have sea legs.” 

Tifa nods in relief and puts it back. 

Beside her, Elena is giving me a strange look. She stands akimbo before the entire group. There’s a hard, suspicious look in her eyes. 

“Who are you anyway?” Elena asks. 

“I-I’m nobody,” I reply firmly. “I promise.”

 

\-----------

 

Two minutes later, the ferry docks at the harbor and dumps us onto the streets of Manhattan. Marlene becomes giddy and almost uncontrollable.

I didn’t know what to expect from the city, so I’m not sure whether it’s excitingly pleasing or a total letdown. This part of the borough seems to be older; the buildings are old-fashioned, and the ferry port looks like something out of a historical novel. 

“So, do we take a taxi bus, the subway, or what?” Reno asks. 

“Don’t we usually walk when we come here?” Elena recalls. 

“I can do walking,” I hear myself say. 

The Manhattan address and the key are still tucked away in my pocket. Yes, walking would be good. That way, I can sneak off when no one’s looking and make a quick getaway on a taxi… 

I’d be down the block before anyone realizes I’m gone. 

“Of course we should walk,” Tifa decided. “Elena needs to burn some calories so she can fit into her Cavali gown.” 

Elena puts her arm around Tifa and giggles. “Too bad it won’t do anything for your boobs. Maybe you really should tell your brain to stop sending hormones before they explode …” 

“You’ve been listening to Seph for too long!” 

They both laugh and lead the way, and I raise an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“The sanity of women is fleeting,” I declare. 

“Scratch that,” Seph-chan replies. “It’s nonexistent altogether.” 

“I like ‘em anyhow,” Reno leers. 

And so, we venture forth.

 

\-----------

 

After a long jaunt into the city and another two hours of visiting random shops, I find myself sitting in the infamous two-story boutique of Cavali on 5th Avenue. 

We wait in anticipation. 

On the second floor, Elena is in the dressing room, trying out the gown she’s so worked up about. When I first set my sights on the thing (which is apparently being passed off as a dress), I find it to be overly colored and gaudy. I sit at the couch and wisely make no comment. 

Reno wrinkles his nose, unwisely calling Elena colorblind, and earns a sharp tap on the back of his skull. 

In the far corner, Marlene is currently attempting to bond with Tifa through shopping. Tifa is eyeing the trendy blouses hanging on the racks but is making no attempt to claim them. 

Such a shame too because she’d probably kill in them … 

Seph-chan is currently devouring a book. Reno is leaning against a pole, sulking over the pain in the back of his head. I feel a bit sorry for him ... but he got what he deserved. 

“By the way …” I ask him, “When ran into the garage … why did you say you and Elena … were ‘fugitives’?” 

Reno looks at me funny, not quite remembering, until his face lights up. And then it darkens. 

“They’re pissed off at us,” he said, “Because we stood up for you.” 

“Oh,” I recall. “Sorry about that …” 

“Forget it,” Reno says gruffly. “It’s funny … Zack’s usually down-to-earth, but he’s been teed off ever since he heard that **_you_** were coming …” 

Reno looks away, and I don’t try to pry any further. I glance at the book in my companion’s hands and notice that it's a collection of short stories from Edgar Allan Poe. 

Lovely. 

“Your reading choice …” I begin, “is superb…” 

“Thank you,” he responds. 

Elena emerges from the dressing stall. The dress looks better now that it has a form, but I still think it’s gaudy. Tifa clenches her teeth. 

“It looks good,” Elena said slowly, “But it’s hard to walk. And I think it makes me look fat …” 

I scoff at the irony. 

“You could always get a bigger size and tailor it then,” Seph-chan advises. 

“Ooooo, exclusive!” Elena cooed. “I like that idea.” 

Elena instructs the saleswoman to get her a bigger size. Seph-chan shakes his head and crawls back into the depths of “The Murders in the Rue Morgue”. Marlene slips away from the racks of Technicolor nightmare and comes to me with beady eyes. She gestures for me to bend down to her level. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she whispers sheepishly. 

I nod and get up from my seat, taking her by the hand. I ask one of the saleswomen where the bathroom is, and she points me over to a corner on the first floor. While going down the steps, I notice that Reno has stolen my spot. 

Cheater. 

A blond salesgirl smiles at us as we pass by the cash register. Marlene sees the bathroom and lets my hand go, racing towards it with her feet kicking behind her. I follow behind as she turns the doorknob with her tiny hands and slides in through the crack. I shake my head and lean against the wall. 

And then, the thought occurs to me. Everyone else is upstairs. I’m alone with Marlene. The front door is very close. I’m patting the apartment key involuntarily. 

This is my chance! 

I take a quick look at the stairs to see if anyone is coming down. The toilet flushes in the bathroom, and the sink turns on. The blonde is busy filing her nails. 

Marlene steps out of the bathroom and holds out her hands to prove that she washed them. 

“All done?” I ask. 

She nods confidently, and I take her by the hand again. However, when she realizes that we’re going towards the door instead the stairs, she becomes curious. 

“Aren’t we going the wrong way?” Marlene questions. 

“No,” I answer. “We’re going in the way I **intend** to go.” 

Marlene opens her mouth in a perfect O and covers it. 

“Are we ditching them?” she whispers mischievously. 

I turn to her, intending on softening the truth. But a disturbingly evil smile slaps itself on my face, showing my fangs. 

“Yes!” I reply quietly. 

Her eyes expand, but she doesn’t complain in the least. Our walking pace becomes faster, and we sneak out the door. I look behind to see if anyone has noticed. With the coast clear, I let go of the door and walked away from the boutique. Marlene squeezes my hand. 

The city looks much larger than it was before I had stepped into the boutique. My heart thumps in my chest, and I wander further away from Cavali, pulling my sister with me. 

It feels as if I’m defecting from the army. 

“Where are we going?” she asks innocently. 

“We’re going sleuthing, sweet love,” I reply, “Sleuthing.” 

A taxi drives by, and I wave my arm to hail it. It stops, and we rush towards it. I open the door wide and allow Marlene get in first. Before I get in myself, I look back towards the shop again. No one is coming for me. I’m still all clear. 

The confusion’s behind me, and the adventure’s just up ahead. 

New Jersey is very far away.

 

\-------------

 

About ten minutes later, in a section that looks plainly residential, our female taxi driver stops the cab at a neighborhood of apartments and tells us that we’ve arrived. I open my wallet and pay the lady, adding an extra tip on the end. Marlene unbuckles her seatbelt and pops the door open on her side, so I’m obliged to slide after her. 

Before shutting the door, I poke my head in and say, “Thanks for the ‘quick-like-a-bunny’ drive, miss.” 

“Pleasure’s all mine, cutie,” the driver replies, with a wink. “Have a good one.” 

I feel a flush coming on my face. I back out of the car and shut the door... immediately. The cab takes off, joining the sea of cars, quickly and thankfully disappearing from my sight. 

I take Marlene by the hand again and turn to face the building. The very tall, very large, very _shiny_ building. It looks so much more like some swanky business condominium than some random apartment complex. I look around for a street sign, wondering if we’ve come to the right place. Just to make sure, I read the address on the paper again. 

Unlike much of New York City (the few that I’ve seen) and its buildings, this particular complex has a wall built around its grounds, with a metal entrance in front of us. There’s ceiling that resembles the side of a greenhouse; it’s built on top of the wall and into the side of the building. 

“Is this _it_?” Marlene questions. Her head is tilted all the way back, looking straight up. 

I respond with a simple shrug. Marlene repeats the action with a smile. 

She somehow frees her hand from my grasp and marches onto a set of steps, heading straight for door. I try to keep up with her. 

“Keep close to me, darling,” I warn her. “I hear New York City can be quite wild.” 

Marlene comes to the front door and tries to pull on the handle. It appears to be locked. She pulls harder on the door, to no avail. I notice that there is a small, rectangular slot near the handle. A keyhole. I usher Marlene to step aside, and I take the key out of my pocket. The shape is just right. 

I slide the key into the slot, and a green light flickers above it. I hear a click, and the door swings wide upon, nearly smacking me in the face. Marlene walks through the threshold, and I follow after, shutting the door behind us. 

A concrete path leads up to the _real_ front entrance. Flanking each side of the path and all around the building, there’s a well-manicured lawn and handful of bushes and large trees. A few stone tables are standing in strategic places, and some people are sitting at them, enjoying a snack. 

“Are you sure this is it?” Marlene asks again. 

“How on earth should I know?” I answer honestly. 

I notice, as we go towards the door, that the people are turning to look at us... or just me. Their stares follow me all the way down the path. Maybe, I’m fresh meat… 

Marlene squeezes my hand and whimpers. The door is now within my reach, so I yank it open and usher Marlene through. As I pass through the door and enter the lobby, I can still feel their eyes boring into me before the door swings shut. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. 

But as soon as I walk deeper into the lobby, I’m eyed once again by a small group of people at a sitting area. And just as quickly, they avert their eyes and go about their own business. The elevator signs are up ahead, and my sister loosens her grip on my hand. I pull out the address again to make sure I have the apartment number right. 

“We’re going all the way to the eightieth floor,” I speak softly. 

“That’s really far up,” Marlene whines. 

“Tell me about it...” 

Out of nowhere, a hand reaches out and taps me on the shoulder. I feel myself jump at the sudden contact, and the hand withdraws. A small voice squeaks, and I turn to look. The voice murmurs an apology... in Japanese. 

“So sorry,” a girl coos. “Excuse my manners.” 

I’m suddenly standing face to face with a tiny, Japanese girl, dressed in a purple yukata. She bowed her head low. Marlene lets go of me. The girl raises her head slightly, letting me see her eyes, and she gives me a weak smile. 

“You’re the son of the late Dr. and Mrs. Strife, are you not?” she declared. 

“Yes,” I reply. “And who are...” 

The girl drops her head again, but this time, her smile becomes larger. With more cunning. With more confidence. 

“How rude of me!” she chirps. “My family name is Kisaragi, and my given name is Yuffie. I am the daughter of Godo Kisaragi, who leads our clan. I come from Monbetsu in the Abashiri Subprefecture of island of Hokkaido... it is my humble honor to stand in your presence.” 

The long introduction leaves me—for lack of a better word—flabbergasted. Not for the sheer length of it, mind you... but if I recall quite correctly, the formula of this introduction is... is... 

“Ojou-sama!” another voice bellows in the distance. “What are you doing?” 

I feel myself tensing once again. Yuffie rolls her eyes, does a dramatic, 180-degree turn, and prepares herself for whatever is coming our way. I train my eyes to see what exactly she’s looking at, and I see a small hoard of bodyguards. Dapper, scary looking bodyguards. A couple of them have cars on their faces. 

A dead give away. 

When they come close enough to be dangerous, one of them opens their mouths and scolds her. 

“What do you think you are doing?” the man bellows in Japanese. “We are late for the meeting!” 

“No shouting!” Yuffie snaps in a low voice. “This is a high class establishment... and do you have any idea who you are speaking in front of...” 

“Ojou-sama,” he continues (completely undaunted), “We are in dangerous times, and so you must not tarry anywhere. And your father has specifically told you not to mingle with riffraff!” 

... 

What did he just call me?

Riffraff? 

"I don't want to hear that..." I hiss, "coming from a man who's obviously some Yakuza thug..." 

Yuffie steps forward and slaps him across the face. He stumbles backwards. 

“As I was saying,” she interrupts. “Do you have any idea who are speaking with, you fools? This is the son of Dr. Jiro Strife! The scientist!” 

Her bodyguards freeze, and some of them drop their jaws. I blink involuntarily. Marlene throws out her raspberry. 

What’s the matter? Yes, my father was Dr. Jiro Strife. Yes, he was a scientist... and a genius in biotechnology, if I’m allowed to say so. So, what’s big deal? 

Yuffie turns back to me and bows again. “Please forgive their rudeness. I don’t know what to do with them sometimes.” 

The men join her and bow even lower. 

“Why didn’t you just say so?” one of them mutters. 

“So, as an apology,” Yuffie declares, “My men and I will escort and protect you as long as you stay inside this building.” 

“Uh...” I reply. 

The formerly outspoken bodyguard raises his head, hesitantly this time, and clears his throat. 

“But Ojou-sama,” he says quietly. “The meeting.” 

Yuffie’s head shoots up, and her eyes sharpen. She reaches into the folds of her yukata and whips out a concealed dagger. In a flash, Yuffie puts on a dreadfall, domineering sneer and grapples the man in a half-nelson. She points the dagger at his face. 

“We **_are_** going to escort him, are we not?” she says. 

“Y-yes, Ojou-sama,” he stammers. “Of course.” 

Yuffie gently lets him go, and he takes a few steps back, gasping. She slips the dagger back into her kimono and smiles sweetly. 

“All settled?” she asks innocently. 

“So, you really **_are_** Yakuza?!” I cry. 

Yuffie shrugs. “Well, you did say it was obvious.” 

My body starts to tremble, but I do my best to smile. Okay, I can do this. I can handle this—I think. 

“There is no need to be afraid,” she assures me. “It’s not like we’re any different.” 

What? 

“I beg your pardon?” I answer. 

“So, the rumors are true then,” _Y_ uffie observes. “Dr. Strife kept you completely isolated from our world.” 

What the hell? 

She claps her hands together with a carefree air that leaves me speechless. “Well, it doesn’t matter, you’ll figure it out soon enough. For now, let’s help you get set up.” 

Yuffie takes, and despite my trepidation, she leads me forward. Marlene keeps close to me. The bodyguards surround us. I suppress the urge to laugh nervously. 

“And who might you be?” Yuffie sings in English, looking down at my sister. 

Marlene looks away shyly. “I’m Marlene.” 

“You’re imouto?” she asks me. 

I nod briefly. 

“Well, that’s alright then,” Yuffie says. “In normal circumstances, we would have to get her a pass. You can’t get past the third floor without one... except for you.” 

“Me?” 

“That’s because you’ve got special privileges.” 

Marlene cheers up a little upon hearing the phrase. “Are we like VIP’s or something?” 

“Is that because I’m Dr. Strife’s son?” I inquire. 

Yuffie softens her composure a little, and she giggles. 

Good. I suppose she’s somewhat normal. 

“Not just that,” she answers, “It’s because you belong to Madame Luciano. Dr. Strife was her favorite scientist. That’s why.” 

At her words, I realize I’m beginning to understand now. 

I don’t like the fact that I’m completely surrounded by criminals. Nor do I favor the idea that it may be very a bad influence on my sister. But nevertheless, at the very least, I’m one step closer to finding out the truth. That should count for something, right? 

Marlene taps my arm and hums for my attention. She simpers gruesomely and asks in simple Japanese: 

“So Daddy was part of the mob?” 

I wish Dad hadn’t taught us the language. 

 


	8. Awakening - Chapter Seven: Wheels already turning

Now… here I am. Standing inside an elevator, which seems to be moving at a sloth’s pace. With a bunch of Yakuza bodyguards surrounding us on all sides. And a Yakuza princess who’s chattering away without a care in the world in her native tongue. And Marlene, who seems thoroughly pleased with the situation. 

Talk about Monty Python’s _And Now For Something Completely Different_. Only, I don’t find this the _least_ bit funny. 

And I’m starting to get the most annoying headache on the face of the earth. It’s coming from the crown of my head. 

I swallow and undo one of the buttons on my shirt. This is no time to lose my head, after all: I’m on a mission. 

Yuffie finally stops talking. Time to get to business. 

“I know you might think this is strange,” I begin in Japanese, “But I have no idea who this woman is. This Madame Luciano. Who exactly is she?” 

Yuffie paused for a moment, as if she were unsure of how to answer. Her expression became puzzled, and she turned her head away. 

“Is something wrong?” I ask. 

“No…” she replies. “I just don’t know very much about her. All I know is what Papa tells me. Trivial things.” 

“I see.” 

She tilts her head to the side. “She is properly known as Donna Jenova di Luciano, and she is the head of the Luciano family in Florence, Italy. The Lucianos have its hands on everything… from winemaking, to politics, to music, to fashion… And she invests heavily in medical technology...” 

My head spins. Wow, no wonder Seph-chan called her a tycoon.

“Of course,” Yuffie continues, in a grim tone, “From what I also hear, she’s a person that no one… especially anyone associated with the underworld… wants to mess with. Papa says so.” 

… 

Is it just me, or did she just say something terrifying? 

“I beg your pardon?” I ask. 

“She has connections in the government,” Yuffie explains. “And she’s extremely beautiful for her age, so crime bosses roll over and play dead for her. Who would be stupid enough go up against someone like that?” 

What? W-what? WHAT?! 

“I… don’t think… I understand…” I stammer. 

“Me neither,” she admits. “I can’t really tell if she’s apart of the underworld… or if her business is legitimate. They say she keeps **tabs** on the likes of us… but I know for a fact that she often meets with politicians around the globe. I even heard a rumor that the current President of the United States tried to hit on her during a state dinner…the old letch…” 

Oh God in heaven, please tell me what my parents have dropped me into. I did **NOT** sign up for this! 

“Didn’t mummy say that the president married?” Marlene asks. 

Yuffie graciously changes the subject. 

“I know you’re not familiar with this system, but have you at least visited this building before?” 

“This is my first time in the United States,” I answer. 

“How about the sister building in Australia?” she asks. 

Sister building? 

“Afraid not.” 

“Have you been to Australia?” 

“A few times… I have relatives there. Why?” 

Yuffie shrugs. “No reason. I’m just being noisy. Your aunt and cousin, Drs. Lucrecia and Scarlet Hastings, correct?” 

I look at her and gape in shock. Why is it that everyone knows every little thing about me? And I know very little about them? 

“Yes,” I reply. 

“It’s funny how things are so connected in this industry,” she says with a laugh. “You do realize that your aunt, Dr. Hastings, is Mr. Skandon’s younger half-sister?” 

Huh? What? **_Skandon_**?! 

“Oh, they still haven’t told you that yet?” Yuffie whines in surprise (she’s obviously paying attention to the expressions on my face). “Dr. Hastings is Mr. Skandon’s half-sister. And… Mr. Skandon took Sephiroth-sama from his mother when he was young. I just thought it was funny how your English roots are connected with the Lucianos…” 

Eh, now! We’re getting further along at last!

She shakes her head in disbelief. “It’s beyond me why they won’t tell you these things now. They should’ve just spilled the beans as soon as your parents died…” 

Yuffie stops abruptly, and a bodyguard coughs behind us. 

“Sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t say that so flippantly…” 

“No, I agree with you,” I reply. “I’d have appreciated it. But I thought you said that you knew very little.” 

“I know the trivial things…” she reminds me. “I’m required to know them. 

“So, how is my English family connected with the Lucianos?” 

Yuffie eyes me cautiously. “I don’t know if I should say anything anymore. If they haven’t told you anything, they probably have their reasons.” 

“I won’t snitch on you,” I reply earnestly. 

Yuffie sighs in resignation. 

Victory. 

“Let’s see if I can get the family tree right,” Yuffie mumbles. “If I’ve been told right… let’s see. Dr. Lucrecia C. Hastings is Mr. Skandon’s half-sister… Mr. Skandon is both Sephiroth-sama’s adoptive father and his uncle; his sister was Sephiroth-sama’s mother… I hear she was abusive. his father was Madame Luciano’s older half-brother from her father’s German mistress. So, Madame Luciano is his Sephiroth-sama’s aunt.” 

Seph-chan did mention that he lived in Germany until he was eight… 

Yuffie nods, satisfied with her examination, and waves her fingers. “Yes, that’s the connection from Dr. Strife’s English side.” 

“So Kitty-chan is our cousin?” Marlene asks excitedly. 

“Kitty-chan?” Yuffie replies cluelessly. 

I move a finger over my sister’s big mouth. 

“Forget it,” I answer. “Is there a connection with father’s Japanese side?” 

“None that I know of,” Yuffie says. “At least, I know that Dr. Strife didn’t have any family in the Yakuza…” 

“Phooey!” Marlene curses disappointedly. 

I’m relieved by the good news. His job seems shady enough right now as it is. 

“Alright,” I mutter to myself. “How about my mother? Does she have any relationship with the Lucianos?” 

Yuffie flinches and doesn’t reply immediately. 

Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. 

“Well… yes…” she says hesitantly. “However, the connection is much more direct… Though, I’m even less willing to tell you… if you don’t know anything…” 

“Why not?” I ask. 

“You won’t like it, that’s for sure.” 

I look at the grid on wall in front of me; it’s calculating which floor we’re passing. My eyes are drawn to numbers... 63, 64, 65, 66. 

“Everything past floor seventy-five is for important people only,” Yuffie informs me. “So, we’ll have to take another elevator there, and we’ll need your key. Even my father doesn’t qualify for—” 

“Even still,” I interrupt, “I want to know. What _is_ my mother’s connection with Madame Luciano?” 

Yuffie takes a deep breath. 

“Since you’re asking,” she says, “That must mean that you don’t know your mother’s maiden name, do you?” 

The question takes me aback. I… **_don’t_** know her maiden name at all. She… never told me… 

I shake my head in embarrassment. Yuffie shakes her head and scowls. 

“Can’t make any sense of it,” she says. 

“So… what is it?” I ask. 

“Luciano,” she reveals. “Isabella di Luciano. She was the Madame’s younger sister. Therefore, the Madame is your **aunt** …” 

… 

The elevator doors slide open. I find myself practically stumbling out into the hall. Yuffie becomes shifty and uneasy. All I can feel is Marlene’s tight hold on my shirt. 

“Strife-sama…” she says quietly. 

“Why?” I manage to reply. 

“Eh?” 

“Why is it that **you’re** the one who’s telling me this?” 

Yuffie steps back and holds up her hands. “You were the one who told me to…” 

“Those jerks,” I growl. 

“I’m sorry?” she asks. 

Those jerks… 

“Those jerks… who called themselves my parents!” I cry. “Dammit! Dammit! Dammiiiiiiiiiiiit!” 

And then I’m gone… 

“Do you know,” I ask her, “That my parents died just before I graduated the eleventh grade? The ELEVENTH grade! I was almost fifteen years and seven months old. That means I have been with my parents for nearly sixteen years, and never once did they mention that I had a whole different set of family in good old Florence! My parents have **_taken_** me to Florence! I’ve been there eight times! Eight times! Madame Luciano was **air** to me for all I knew! If they wanted to keep me away from the woman, why bother taking me to her doorstep?!” 

“That does seem a bit odd,” Yuffie replies timidly. 

I pull and scratch at my hair. 

I am pissed! I **AM** pissed! I am **so** pissed that I don’t even know how pissed off I am! 

“Why, why, why, why did they never bother to tell me about **any** of this?!” I yell. “And then go and die on me, go to heaven, and drop me completely unawares in the middle of hell?! At the very least, they could’ve told me **who** was getting custody of me. Most children get a fair warning these days! Right now, ‘the Madame’ … or whatever this woman likes to call herself… is probably having a meeting with one of the Triad ringleaders! Or the governor of New York. Or maybe even some Mafia don!” 

“Actually,” Yuffie rejoins, “Papa is going to have a meeting with her tonight… in a restaurant on the ninety-ninth floor. She’s right in this building even as we speak.” 

… 

No way. 

No way! No bloody way! 

Yuffie suddenly has a big smile on her face. 

Why is she smiling? Is she making fun of me?! 

“What the hell were they thinking!?” I ask. “Fifteen years and seven months…no. Sixteen years and eight days of lies! Just a little bit of straightforward honesty is all I ask! That’s all! Why is that do damned hard!?” 

And then, I realize that Yuffie is laughing at me. She’s laughing at me! 

“This is not funny!” I protest. 

I hear a second voice laughing from below. 

Marlene has her head tilted back, and her mouth is so wide that she could catch bugs with it. 

 _Et tu, Marlene?_ I mourn. 

To my added embarrassment, Yuffie’s bodyguards are smirking, snickering, and/or giving me strange looks. 

 _What is **wrong** with you people?_ _This is a serious issue, and you’re all acting like it’s a bloody good joke! What’s so funny? What’s soooooo funny?!_  

I think my headache’s getting worse. It’s already spreading from the crown of my head to a spot between my eyes. 

The hilarity continues nevertheless. And then suddenly, a chuckle comes out of me. A small, pitiful chuckle. I’m not even sure if it’s out of hysteria… or if I’m actually scoffing at this insane farce!

 

00000

 

A short but somber elevator ride later, I’m finally standing in front of _the apartment_. Everyone else is standing right behind me… and probably wondering why I won’t just take the key to the door _already_. 

Taking a deep breath, I decide to stop speaking ill of the dead (my parents) and give them the benefit of doubt. 

 _No need to be hasty,_ I tell myself. _Mum and Dad would never do something like this without any reason. There should be a logical explanation for this…_  

I hope. 

I dig the key from my pocket , and I feel some tension in my neck. I insert the key into the door’s slot. The hydraulics click, and the door opens slowly. I step inside with Marlene clinging to my shirt. Behind me, I here Yuffie ordering her bodyguards to stay outside; the demand is met with a flurry of protests. I’m too preoccupied to pay attention. 

I the interior of the apartment barely noticeable. The entranceway and the apartment are plainly furnished. There’s a wide great room , along with other articles that barely catch my attention. 

In the middle of the room, there is a coffee table surrounded by a loveseat and two armchairs. On top of the table there’s a large rectangular box wrapped in dark brown paper, decorated with a black bow. Next to it, there’s a long, cylindrical box and a tall bottle in a paper bag. 

My present, I presume. 

I come closer, taking a seat, and there’s a black envelope taped to the side of the rectangular box. I rip it off and tear it open. It appears to be a letter. The words are written in kanji:

 

 _Happy birthday, my dear rival,_

_It is awfully good that you have made it this far. Did you manage to give those fools the slip? I would make sure to always be one step ahead of Sephiroth though; he is different from them… like you._

_These little toys are all yours. The dogs that are after you, little kitty, were nasty enough to steal them away, but I was kind enough to get them back for you. Are you glad? You will thank me, right?_

_They are probably on your tail even as you read this letter, but there is no need to worry. I am sure that once you see what are in these boxes, you will know exactly what to do. You always were quick on the uptake, so I have every bit of confidence in you._

_In the end, my birthday gift to you is your survival._

_Affectionately yours,_

_Tseng_

_P.S._

_I added something a bit extra for you to wear. The bottle is for Sephiroth. He is going to need it today. But do not tell him it was I who bought it for him. Otherwise, he will never drink it!_

_And feel free to use the bathroom if you need it._

 

“Is this your apartment?” Yuffie asks from behind. 

I drop the letter onto the loveseat. The tension hasn’t left my neck at all, neither the headache, so I try to stretch my neck and turn it at different angles. No luck. 

“No,” I respond. “I don’t think so. Say… do you know anyone by the name Tseng?” 

Yuffie’s face goes white, and she wrinkles her nose. 

“I’ve heard a name like that. And I know there’s a big shot from the Triads who goes by that name… but who knows how many Tsengs are in China. It is a Chinese name, right?” 

The Triads? Oh Bloody Mary… 

“But I know even less about that,” she admits. “The Yakuza and the Triads tend to ignore or avoid each other. We don’t bother them if they don’t bother us.” 

“I understand,” I reply. “I should probably warn you then… I think this apartment might belong to Tseng.” 

Yuffie goes stiff for a moment, but she shrugs it off. “I suppose Papa won’t mind… as long as I don’t mention it.” 

Satisfied for the time being, I turn back to the ‘present’, crack my knuckles, and reach for the nearest edge… 

Wait a minute…! 

I grab the letter and read it over a second time. This time, the words really hit home. 

 _My dear rival… The dogs that are after you… They are probably on your tail… quick on the uptake… your survival…!_  

How, on this good earth, could I have missed **that** the first time! 

With a newfound urgency, I let the letter drop to the floor and yank the ribbon off of the cylinder. I dig my nails into the wrapping paper and tear my way through it until all that is left is a long, metal tube with a holding strap. One that looks remarkably similar to the one Seph-chan carries on his back. 

I swallow and pull off its top. Sticking out of it, there seems to be… the hilt of a sword?! 

I yank it out, in a one fell swoop, and find that I’m horribly right. I balance the sword with in both hands and gaze at it in a stupor. 

Judging from the little knowledge I have, this sword might be a katana. No… it’s something else. 

But as I clutch the sword and run my thumb on the smooth sheath, it feels strangely… pleasant… holding it in my hands. 

I can’t explain it. By just looking at, just by feeling its coolness on my palms… I have this odd feeling… almost… 

“That’s a nodachi,” Yuffie coos. “And the engraving on the sheath…” 

Yes, it is a nodachi. How I know that, though, I’m not entirely sure. Maybe, I saw it in historical museum somewhere… 

No, that’s not it. I… know this sword. I’ve… held it my hands before. 

I run my fingers along the sheath, passing it across the engraving (written in hiragana), and stroke the hilt like it’s a small kitten.  

“It’s pretty!” Marlene chirps. “Didn’t Daddy’s cousin have some of these hanging on his wall?” 

I only answer with a nod. My head is throbbing in pain. 

Gently tugging it from her grasp, I put a firm grip on the hilt and pull the sword out halfway. Yes, it’s definitely real. Maybe, I was half expecting (probably hoping) it was plastic.  

I touch the steel to my head. I find myself liking the sensation against my skin. I suddenly ask myself with a perverse wonder: 

_Is it well sharpened?_

I push the sword back into the hilt and lay it on the far end of the table.

Then, I sink my teeth into the larger box. In seconds, the wrapping paper is at my feet in shreds, and I’m holding a nut-brown suitcase. I unfasten the latch, open it, and find a short, sleeveless, pale bluish-grey dress, matching thigh-high leggings, a long, black vest, and a pair of black, baby doll shoes. 

The fu— 

What is this doing in here!? These are—! 

“Nice clothes!” Marlene praises. 

“Isn’t that for a girl?” Yuffie asks, startled. 

I don’t want to answer. I remove the strange clothes and put them to the side to see what else is in this suitcase. And then, I go rigid. 

The first thing I see is pair of handguns. 

A pair of shiny, silver, bonafide, unmistakable pair of… handguns! 

My heart goes pitter-patter… in anxiety… or excitement!? 

My hands move almost by themselves, and I gently run my fingers on them… as if I’m touching silk. On both guns, the Roman numeral four is etched on their sides. The engraving strikes a cord in me. 

My focus then goes to what else is in the suitcase. Flanking the guns, there are two identical sheathed knives, couple of straps, and pair of black gloves. 

“These are all mine,” I state with certainty. “They **do** belong to me. I know it.” 

“Strife-sama?” Yuffie whispers. 

I breathe through my nose, put the clothes back, and close the suitcase. As I fasten the latches, I make a humble request: 

“Please stop calling me that. Cloud is just fine.” 

“Alright, Cloud-sama,” she answers quickly. 

I want to tell her not to call me that either (it sounds even worse), but I decide to let it go. 

My headache has gotten even worse. I’m starting to feel a little nauseous. Maybe, the situation is finally getting to me. 

“Let’s leave,” I say. “I’ve already got my… _present_. I have no more business here.” 

“Fair enough,” she agrees. 

Yuffie bends over and attempts to pick up the sword for me, but when she tries to lift it off the table, small grunts come out of her mouth. She clenches her teeth and tries to drag it towards the tube. 

“This is awfully heavy!” she complains. “You must be strong!” 

The sword is heavy? It definitely had weight to it, but I hadn’t thought so. In fact, it felt a bit light, and I almost though it was a fake. 

I shake my head, ignoring the thought, and take the sword from her. She wiggles her fingers as I slide it back into the tube and replace the top. But then, my hands grow stiff, and the tube drops from my grips. 

My hands… I can’t move my hands! 

“Cloud-sama?” 

The pain from my headache—or what I thought was just a headache—it’s traveling down my shoulders… and into my arms! My vision starts blur, and I think I’m going to vomit. My legs feel wet noodles… 

I hear a gasp, and someone catches me. I realize that I’ve nearly collapsed onto the floor.  Yuffie gently lowers me back onto the couch and props me against a pillow. 

“Cloud-sama!” she cries. Her voice sounds distant. “Are you alright? Are you sick!?” 

I open my mouth to speak. I can hardly get out the words. 

“I… I’m not… I’m not sure…” 

It hurts to breathe. I think my body is shivering. I think I hear Marlene whimpering. 

“I… I’ll call a doctor!” Yuffie decides. “There should be a doctor on duty!” 

With my last of my strength, I manage to grab a fistful of her yukata. 

“L-let me go!” Yuffie pleads. “I have to call the doctor.” 

“D-don’t!” I shout. “Don’t… call… anyone!” 

“But… you—!” 

“I don’t… want anyone else… involved…” 

The words come out of my mouth before I even understand what I’m saying. My body gives out and falls sideways onto the couch, and I’m forced to let her go. Marlene cries out my name. Nothing seems to touch me anymore. It feels like I’m in some sort of bubble… a cocoon perhaps. 

I can’t sense anyone’s presence anymore. 

Why? Why did I say such a thing? Why do I feel like something awful might happen? Was it only because of that letter? 

 _These little toys are all yours… The dogs that are after… They are probably on your tail… once you see…_ _you will know exactly what to do…_   _your survival…_

No, it isn’t that.

Perhaps, it was what Nicoli said to me in that “dream”.

‘… _we’re going to have lots of fun today!’_ he had said.

Could it be that I had understood what he **_really_** meant in those words? Am I in some sort of danger?

 _Was there any way of **not** knowing? _ I think tiredly. _Was there **ever** any way of not knowing?_

It wasn’t simply that either. The moment I had that first dream on the airplane, I’ve felt differently… about everything. And the moment I saw I set foot off of the plane and knew that I was being watched…

I had known that **something** was going on. I had known the whole time!

And to recognize those weapons… when I could be **_so_** sure that I’ve never seen them before… 

 _Then, if I knew I was walking into trouble,_ I ask myself, _why did I let Yuffie and her men come with me?_  

Yuffie had useful information that I wanted to know… and her men were extra insurance. 

Such… cold reasoning… 

I had planned out everything to get to this point and carried it out with no difficulty… even though, in the back of my mind, I knew I was very likely walking into a hornet’s nest. 

Could it really be, despite recognizing all of this… without having to process it in my head… I had gone ahead and come here… because I knew what I was doing all along? 

 **_“Yes!”_ ** _I hear Nicoli cry out in glee. **“That’s right! You already know!”** _

 

00000

 

 _And then, I see nothing but black again. My body is still wracked with pain. The “imaginary” cocoon squeezes tighter around me. Someone is standing over me._

_My eyes travel to wherever this person is (I thank God that I’m at least able to move my eyes), and I see a pair of bare feet and legs standing next to my hand. I strain my eyes, looking further up, making out the form of a naked woman; her important parts and her waist are wrapped loosely in bandages. Her form looks gray, almost devoid of color._

_The bandages are also wrapped diagonally on her head, covering her left eye and her bridge of her nose. A few locks of her hair hang over her shoulders._

_But when I keep looking at “her” face, I can see the color of her eyes. It’s really no other than Nicoli himself!_

_What on earth is he wearing this time?!_

_“Don’t worry,” he says. “The pain only lasts for a few minutes.”_

_I try to speak back, but my voice is paralyzed. He grins smug and wide,  stoops down to sit next to me. He reaches out and touches my forehead, moving my hair out of the way. He chuckles lightly._

_“There’s nothing to fear,” he continues. “You’ve followed your instincts to the T, and now, you are starting to reap the benefits. Take a deep breath and relax… It hurts to breath, I know, but just do it. You’ll feel much better.”_

_I inhale a deep breath, fighting back the pain, and exhale slowly. I feel my muscles relaxing._

_“You’ve already completed the first leg of your trip,” Nicky tells me, “And this is where the fun begins. Your instincts won’t be enough from now on, so you’ll need my knowledge…”_

_I allow myself an involuntary, agonizing swallow._

_“After you wake up, you’re going to make a call to the building’s hotline. Schedule a last minute private flight and go back to your home.”_

_The instruction shocks me. My home? Does he mean Cape Town? I can go there? Is it really all right to go back?_

_“After you finish up there,” he says, “I’ll tell your next destination…”_

_I swallow again, but this time, it’s less painful. I’m actually starting to feel better._

_But… next destination!? This is going to keep going?!_

_“Get used to this,” Nicoli says, obviously reading my thoughts, “because this will **not** stop. Not for a long time. You have a long way to go.”_

_I open my mouth and manage to make a wheezing sound. Nevertheless, it’s the proper reply for what I’m feeling right now._

_A long way to go? Why do I get the notion that that phrase is a terrible understatement?_

_Nicky shifts and lies down on his side, right beside me. We make eye contact with the very little space between us._  

 _“And about Tseng’s advice,” he reminds me, “I would forget it, if I were you.”_

_“His… advice?” I finally manage to speak._

_“There’s no point in trying to outrun ‘dear Sephiroth’,” he replies. “The Madame calls him Kitten for more reasons than just his eyes… and right now, you’re a mouse…”_

_I almost laugh._

**_Why do I need to worry about that?_** I wonder. **_He couldn’t possibly know where I am right now. I’m perfectly in the clear, aren’t I?_**  

 _“So naïve,” Nicky mutters while frowning. He lays his hand gently on my head and sighs._

_He draws himself closer to me. Unable to move away, I become shocked at his sudden need to take my personal space. He touches his forehead with mine._

_“Ready or not,” he sings. “Here I come…”_

_“What are you—”_

_Everything around me disappears again… Nicoli, the darkness… and something else that I can’t quite understand. A jarring sensation erupts in the back of my head, and it feels as if I’m being poked inside of my head by a hundred things all at once. It’s seeping into the rest of my brain, crawling and weaving its way in._

_And it’s nothing physical at all; it’s more mental than anything else, like a sense of knowing. Something is trying to get into my mind!_

_All that’s left is a sea of blurry, mixed colors; it feels like I’m sinking. I’m being pulled further down… further… further…_


	9. Awakening - Chapter Eight: My nightmare begins

When my eyes finally refocus, the first thing I see is the ceiling. 

It’s over again. For now. 

All the weight has lifted off of me. I slowly sit up and take in a very steady breath. I don’t feel tired or weak or stiff in any way at all. 

In fact, I feel… kind of … 

The bed I’m sitting on is very low to the floor, only a few feet off the ground. Beside me, Yuffie is sitting traditionally, with a low table and a Chinese tea set at her side. The tea smells like oolong. 

“Are you feeling better now, Cloud-sama?” she asks. 

“I think so…” I reply. “Where’s Marlene?” 

“In the living room,” she tells me. “My idiots managed to calm her down with some sweets we found in the kitchen. It took a while though.” 

I frown. “A while? How long have I been out?!” 

“Two hours.” 

I grunt in dismay. Yuffie titters and pours a cup of tea. 

“That’s too long!” I cry. “I…” 

“Slow down,” she advises. “Have a cup.” 

She raises the teacup and offers it to me. I heave an exasperated sigh and accept it. Definitely oolong. 

“Also,” she adds. “I took the liberty of buying you some cartridges.” 

The moment she mentions “cartridges”, I immediately think of something other than a printer. Yuffie scoots back and pulls out a box from under the table. She sits it on the bed before me and opens it up. 

They were cartridges all right. _Gun_ cartridges… 

“W-where did you get these from?” 

“Don’t worry,” she replies, misunderstanding my question. “I had my men buy this from the arsenal store downstairs. They’re excellent quality.” 

... 

“What… kind of place… is this!?” I ask in horror. 

Yuffie averted her eyes and bit her lip. “Well, it’s not as if a place like this was ever given a ‘name’. Think of it as a sort of… exchange center. Everyone comes here… government scientists, the CIA, MI6, top-notch assassins… Triad members like Tseng… Yakuza clans like me and Papa… the Mafia… and important, powerful people like the Madame herself. For some, it’s a place where they can get work done or have safe meetings, and for others… it’s a temporary or secondary home… or merely a rest stop. There’s even a dance club below the lobby! You can get in if you’re sixteen…” 

An arsenal store. 

A hotline where you can schedule private planes. 

A safe haven for assassins and criminals. 

A dance club. 

My eye twitches involuntarily. I’m going to need serious therapy after this. 

“Never mind,” I answer, rubbing my head. “I don’t think I want to know.” 

“It’s best if you do,” Yuffie warns. “This won’t be the last you’ll ever see of a  place like this.” 

“But I want nothing to do with crime!” I snap. 

“You say that as if you have a **_choice_**.” 

My heart sinks. Deep down, no matter how much I don’t want to admit it, she’s _right_. 

And sad to say, my only option is to follow Nicky’s instructions. 

“I need to call the hotline,” I announce. 

“What do you need?” Yuffie asks. 

“I have to schedule… a plane to Cape Town,” I answer. “I have to go as soon as possible. There’s something I need to do.” 

Yuffie bows her head with a smile. “I understand. I’ll have my men do it for you.” 

She gets up from her perch and heads out the door. As she walks out, she rattles out instructions to whoever’s outside. I take a sip of my tea and try to relax. It’s the only thing I can do now. 

I move my neck from side to side. My whole body feels strong, but it’s oddly loose. What exactly… happened to me? 

A few minutes later, a pair of beady eyes appears from behind the door. I look back at her. She doesn’t budge. 

“Are you coming in?” I ask. “Or do you plan on staring at me all day?” 

The door opens a bit more, and Marlene pops in her head. I give her a smile and stretch out my hand towards her. 

“Cloud!” 

Marlene opens the door wide and launches herself onto the bed. The impact nearly makes me spill the tea. She crawls and latches onto me, whining and carrying on in my shirt. 

“It’s alright, sweet love,” I reply. “I’m alright now.” 

We’ll be okay. Right?

 

00000

 

A while later, we finally left the apartment. But not before Yuffie admonished me to load both pistols and hide one on my persons. There was a strange urgency in her voice. I decided that I’d go my own way, so she and her men escorted me to the elevator. We agreed that she’d only ride with me to a certain point and then return to her room.

As we wait for the blasted elevator to come, I’m strapped down with the sword on my back and the suitcase at my side. Yuffie graciously carried the sake bottle for me.

I take out my cell-phone and check for possible messages. Fifteen missed calls, many of them closely following each other. Five voice messages from Tifa and two of from Elena. Nine unidentified text messages, most of them signed by Tifa, and one signed by Reno, cheering me on and warning me not to get caught.

But no messages of from Seph-chan.

No matter. It seems that I’m quite missed.

“Are you sure you won’t get into trouble with your father?” I ask as we wait. “Wasn’t there some sort of… ‘meeting’?”

“No worries!” Yuffie replies. “If I tell him I was with you, he will excuse it.”

Marlene whines impatiently.

“Also, Cloud-sama,” she says. “It may not please you to hear this, but there is one more thing you may need to know… about Madame Luciano. You were upset when I answered your questions, so I hesitated to…”

“Let me guess,” I reply blandly. “The Luciano family is also has ties to the Mafia.”

“How did you know?”

“An Italian family in this middle of all this? I think—by now—I’d be able to put two and two together. Are there any more surprises for me?”

“There might be.”

She stares at me, smiles widely, and says nothing more.

“You won’t tell me, will you?” I realize.

“I’ve probably said too much already,” Yuffie replies. “After all, I’m simply the daughter of a humble Yakuza boss.”

If it weren’t for the situation, I would’ve burst out laughing.

My cell phone receives another message. This time, it actually _is_ Seph-chan.

I press the button to access it, expecting a death threat.

_Be seeing you in the lobby, Princess =)_ , it says.

I break out in a cold sweat.

_There is no way._

_There is no way!_

_No! No! It can’t be true!_

_It’s not possible! How on this bloody earth could he have possibly found out where I was? How did he know I was here? How did he find me?_

_No! It just can’t be true!_

“Cloud-sama?” Yuffie asks. “Is it a bad message?”

I turn to her, stiffly; I’m trembling all over. “I think I’ve been caught.”

“Eh?”

“I didn’t mention this, but… I ditched my group in order to make it here.”

Yuffie stares at me with big, wide eyes. “You what?!”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I explain pathetically. “Otherwise, _he_ wouldn’t have let me come. I just know it.”

“He?”

“Kitty-chan,” Marlene tweets from below.

“Sephiroth,” I correct sternly.

Yuffie pales and drops her jaw in horror. “You tried to run away from Sephiroth-sama?!” she cries. “What were you thinking?!”

“I don’t know anything about _anything_!” I remind her.

I swallow and try to think. I’m not crazy enough to go down to the lobby; I’m too **_young_** to die! I still want to know what mess my life is in, and there’s no reason to think that he would let me go to Cape Town.

But then, how could I avoid him? I don’t know this place…

“I can’t let him catch me,” I tell her. “Not yet.”

Yuffie pinches her chin. “Then, you’ll have to go through the dance club on the bottom floor. Though, he might anticipate that. And even if he doesn’t catch you there, he might already know about the plane and try to head you off there. And if not that, he’ll already know your destination and get you there.”

“B-but how could… how would he know about the plane too? What is he apart of? The CIA?!”

“Well, that’s because, like you, he’s also a VIP. The concierge would happily tell him. And if you think he won’t go so far to chase you down, think again. The Madame calls him Kitten, but we call him The Tiger.”

I facepalm. “Bugger!”

So, there I have it. Two choices are laid out before me. One, I can go down to the lobby, beg for mercy, and probably die at Seph-chan’s hands. Two, I can sneak away to the plane, either getting caught at the plane or in Cape Town, beg for mercy, and still probably die at his hands… but with the chance of least finding out what the bloody hell is going on.

“The dance club is open this time of day?” I ask, putting my cell phone away.

The decision is a no-brainer.

“It opens at noon and closes at three in the morning,” she answers.

“I can bring my sister through there?”

“Don’t worry. They’ll let us through if it’s an emergency.”

The elevator finally comes to a stop; the ding is music to my ears.

The doors slide open, and on the inside, I see a petite, baby-doll faced woman with fuchsia dyed hair; she’s carrying a guitar case. Surrounding her, there’s a group of normal looking men… three brunettes, two blonds, one redhead, a bloke with raven hair (I’m analyzing quickly again). She looks me straight in the eye, her eyes growing wide. The look in her eyes turns wild, and an unpleasant smirk appears on her lips.

Something… is _very_ wrong!

The woman reaches under her flimsy day dress, and time slows down. I see the pistol that’s clutched her small hands, and my hair stands on end. She aims quickly and fires; the sound echoes through the entire hall. Out of the corner of my eye, one of Yuffie’s guards falls to the ground, and I see blood. The woman giggles.

The men rush out of the elevator. They’re… they’re attacking us!

I see guns being drawn on both sides, and another shot is fired. I hear Marlene let out a scream. Everything becomes a blur. Yuffie grabs my arm, and I snatch the suitcase off the ground before I’m forcefully yanked away from the frenzy.

Yuffie has a firm grip on my wrist. One of her bodyguards has slung Marlene over his shoulder. Three more guards are flanking us.

And then, the reality of the situation hits me for a six.

I’m in danger. My life is in danger!

Are those people… are they after me?!

A fusillade of rapid gunfire drums through my ears. My head turns. Two of Yuffie’s bodyguards fall dead onto the hall carpet. Yuffie lets out an enraged shriek. And then, I stop running.

“Cloud-sama!” Yuffie squeaks, trying to pull me forward.

“Don’t move!” the woman shouts.

I turn slowly to face her. The first thing I notice is that she’s carrying a very large machine in her arms.

Sweet, holy mother of…!

“That’s good!” the woman sings. “Chasing you would’ve been a waste of time!”

Her men are trailing behind her in the distance. All of the other remaining bodyguards are lying twisted on the floor near the elevator. I could get shot right now, and yet, I can feel myself boiling with anger. I feel sick.

“You’re after me, aren’t you?” I declare.

“You catch on quick,” she replies.

“There was no need to… kill those people.”

The woman stops and throws her head to the side, her pink Shirley Temple curls falling behind her shoulder.

“They were in my way,” she says with blank, childlike smile.

Something in me snaps.

This piece of trash from hell—she kills Yuffie’s bodyguards in cold blood, is terrorizes us, exposes my sister to things she should never have to see in her life, and she has the gall to brush it off?!

Perhaps, I’m partially to blame, and those men _were_ Yakuza, but there was no reason for this to happen!

“If you don’t want us to kill anyone else,” the woman tells me, still smiling, “you just have to come along with us. No funny business either.”

“What do you want with me?!” I reply cautiously.

“You’ll find out soon enough… my beautiful boy.”

I think I’m **_really_** going to vomit.

“Go jump in the Hudson, you skank!” Yuffie shouts in English.

The woman frowns and sucks at her teeth.

I begin to think fast. If I did as this woman told me, there was no guarantee that she’d spare Yuffie’s life or leave my sister unharmed. Or rather, I highly doubt that she plans to. And there’s no way we can just run away anymore.

So, there’s only **one** other option left for me.

I drop my and suitcase on the ground and raise my hands in the air. As I walk towards her, Yuffie grabs me.

“No, don’t do it!” she cries.

“Let me go,” I reply in a low voice, and I slip out of her grasp. “I know what I’m doing.”

The woman grins in triumph, and I bite my lip.

No, I really don’t know what I’m doing… but right now, I’m so angry that somehow… I’m going to make this baby-doll, psycho-bitch pay!

I walk closer to her… closer… closer. Her expression is secure, confident, and arrogant. I close in, only a few feet in front of her, and I feel a smirk on my lips. The woman tenses.

I take a deep breath, pick up my leg, and kick the barrel of her gun with all my might.

And all hell breaks loose.

The woman gasps as she looses her grip on the gun, and I spring up on her. I catch the gun as it flies backwards, aiming the barrel for the men rushing to her aid, and I squeeze the trigger. The results—to my horror—our glorious.

The torrent of bullets hit their mark, and four of her men twitch like oil on a frying pan. They fall over like logs. The woman screeches in a fury and struggles hard, making me lose control of the gun. She pulls away and shoves me, making the gun fall out of my hands. Yuffie’s remaining bodyguard comes up from behind and pounces on it.

The woman tries to kick him, but I quickly knee her in the stomach. She doubles over onto the ground.

The rest of her men keep running towards us, completely unperturbed. I take a few steps back, run, and then, I jump onto her back like I’m on a trampoline.

I aim directly for one of her cronies and drive my foot straight into his face. He falls down with his arms flailing, and I land on the ground with my knees bent. I swerve around, and the next one tries to tackle me. I spin on the ball of my foot and deliver a neat high kick into the side of his head. He crashes into the wall, making a large crater in the plaster.

_Did I just jump kick someone… and then pull off a roundhouse kick?! And there is no way I’m that strong!_

Not that I’m complaining…

But then, the third bloke lands a kick on me, and I hit the floor, sliding back several feet into the hall. I hiss in pain (my ego damaged), but it reminds me of the gun hidden in the back of my pants.

I hop to my feet, jamming my hand into my pants. I pull out the gun, release the safety, and leap forward to face him head on. He charges and fires at me. I jump to the side and dodge it. He tries to shoot again, but I break the distance between us and backhand his arm away and the bullet hits the wall.

I stick the barrel of the gun right onto his nose. His jaw goes slack.

“Sayonara, arsehole,” I reply coolly, and I squeeze the trigger…

Wait, what!?

His nose explodes in a bloody fountain, splattering onto my shirt. His body falls back like a domino, bouncing on the floor with a thud.

I’m too stunned to move.

“Cloud-sama, are you alright?!” Yuffie shouts.

I pull myself together and return to them. My legs are shaking.

“I… I think so,” I reply.

The bodyguard’s holding the psycho at bay with her own gun. She grits her teeth and glares daggers at me.

_Well, **you** started it…_

Yuffie grins from ear to ear and claps her hands together.

“You’re amazing!” she gushes. “You didn’t tell me you knew how to fight!”

“I… I don’t!” I stammer back. “I’ve never…”

Yuffie flinches, completely taken aback. “Are you serious!?”

I ball hand into a fist and punch my forehead. _Get a hold of yourself! This is no time to flip out! You have to get out of here, NOW! Stay calm. Just stay calm!_

Yeah, easier said then done!

I kneel down and grab my sword while Yuffie takes the suitcase. She’s still carrying the sake bottle under her arm, which is miraculously intact. I reach out and grab the woman by her neck and hold the gun near her bright, fuchsia head.

“Move!” I bark at her, and she obeys with a snort.

Our greatly diminished posse travels back to the elevator. I hold back the bile in my throat as I see the dead bodyguards all over the floor.

“L-Lola!”

The man I jumped kicked tries to stumble to his feet. Once again, my body moves almost reflexively, and I fire two warning shots near his head. He doesn’t move another inch.

The elevator—thankfully—has not moved. We all step inside—me first with my newest enemy—and the bodyguard jabs the button to close it. We’re sealed in and safe.

“Do we take her with us?” I ask.

“No,” Yuffie replies. “It’s too risky to take her hostage.”

Yuffie then gives her a mocking look and says, “Right, Lola-chan?”

Lola growls through her teeth. Yuffie presses the button to the seventieth floor, and the elevator goes down, nearly making me tip over.

I take deep breaths, just like Mum taught me. Surprisingly, it works.

Lola cranes her neck, glaring at me.

“Lola’s a rather proper name for you,” I say to her. “In a sick sort of way.”

“You’re gonna regret this, you little brat!” she spits.

“I was about to say the same thing.”

The elevator stops on the seventieth floor and opens. I raise the gun and cosh her a good one on the back of her head. Discombobulated, she loses her balance, and I throw her head first onto the floor, getting a good view of her teddy bear panties.

The doors close, and Yuffie presses another button to continue the journey down. I fall against the back of the elevator, pressing my hands to my cheeks. She takes out her cell from the folds of her kimono and dials a number.

“Hello, concierge,” she says in calm, collected English. “This is Yuffie Kisaragi. We have a problem named Lola Hopkins. She broke facility rules and attacked us on the eightieth floor… actually, she’s on the seventieth floor now. People are dead. Thank you. Please sound the alarm and handle it. Yes, we’ll be careful.”

Marlene wriggles out of from the arm that’s been holding her all this time and flings herself onto my legs. She’s breathing heavily and hiccupping in tears.

Yuffie ends the call and tells me, “I’m sorry, Cloud-sama. We’ll have to go to the lobby after all. There might be more people after you, so we’ll need… Sephiroth-sama’s help!”

I don’t answer. My body slides down until I fall sprawled on my backside. I bury my head in my hands. Marlene presses herself against me.

The reality of my plight slaps me in the face **yet** again. I just went waif-fu a team of assassins, violently killing five people in no more than a minute. With skills I am **NOT** supposed to have. And I think I did it with a smile on my face!

Forget therapy. I’m halfway to the loony bin now!

And I _still_ don’t know what the hell is going on!

But one thing’s for sure: I am neck deep in something very, **very** ugly.

_Shera and Reno were right,_ I mourn. _I’m crazy after all! And I’m not normal! Normal people don’t suddenly know how to do flying jump kicks without any training! Normal people can’t put a dent into the bloody wall! Normal people don’t turn from law-abiding citizens into lethal killers in two seconds flat! And they don’t do it while smirking! I really killed those people, didn’t I?!  I’m a nutcase! I’m a nutcase!_

My chest tightens. It’s getting hard to breathe…

A pair of gentle hands touches my head. They pull me towards a bundle of colorful cloth and a soft stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuffie says softly. “You’ve really never killed before, have you? I said something insensitive. It’s not easy to do it. But… please try to calm down. You’ve done **_nothing_** wrong.”

_Easy for you to say, Yakuza girl!_

“You defended yourself and me very well. We might’ve all been killed if you hadn’t taken action. Just say it. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

I don’t answer, and she shakes me forcefully. “Go on! Say it!”

I swallow heavily, and she waits.

“I…” I reply slowly. “I’ve… done nothing wrong.”

My breathing starts to return to normal, and I raised my voice a bit louder. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

I defended myself. My sweet love was safe, thank God. My new acquaintance survived. I taught that evil creature a lesson. We’re all okay.

“I did nothing wrong?” I said again.

“Yes!” Yuffie declared. “What other choice did you have? There’s no way she would have just left us all alone. That Lola Hopkins… she’s heartless! Just like her mother **_and_** her sisters!”

“I’ve done nothing wrong...”

I take deep breaths (again), and I try to force myself to relax.

“Yes, it’s fine. Try to stay calm. Once we get to Sephiroth-sama, I’m sure he’ll make it all better.”

_Yeah, right before he rips me a new one._

“You’re alright?” Yuffie asks.

I’m not, but I nod anyway. She slowly pulls away from me.

“Though it was wise and fortunate that you didn’t kill her,” she begins to say. “Why didn’t you—”

Yuffie stops midsentence and squeals, falling on her backside, barely catching herself with her hands. I raise my head in confusion, and she gasps, staring at me in fright.

I look around the elevator, and the bodyguard is giving me a hostile look. Marlene leans close to me with her tearstained face, with an expression that suggests that she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“W-what?” I ask. “What is it?”

And then, I realize it: my British accent has risen up by a few notes. And my clothes are two sizes too big.

_No._

_No!_

I lift my up my hands. They’ve become smaller.

_No!_

I grab my hair. The spikes are gone, and it’s grown right out.

_No!_

I touch my cheeks. My skin is even smoother, and my face is rounder.

_No!_

I touch my chest…

I don’t even want to think about it!

_No! No! No, no, no, no, no!_ _This has to be a joke. This has to be some horrible, **sick** joke!_

Yuffie steadies herself and tries to talk to me. “C-c-c… Cl-cl… I…”

I open my mouth to try to reply to her, but instead, I end up screaming like a girl.

Literally.

“Ojou-sama, get away from it!” her bodyguard cries.

The elevator begins to spin, and I can hear Yuffie screaming, “What do you think you’re doing!? Unhand me!”, and something heavy gets knocked against the wall, and bodyguard grunts in pain. And I just keep screaming. I can’t stop myself!

Yuffie practically pounces on top of me, nudging Marlene out of the way. The impact sends the back of my head into the wall, not enough to hurt but plenty enough to shock me back to my senses. Yuffie grabs me in random places, running her hands through my hair, pressing her fingers into my cheeks, tilting my head back, and staring at my neck.

“No Adam’s apple,” she finally says. “Cloud-sama, are you… are you alright?”

“What do you think!?” I snap. “I’ve grown a set of bloody knockers!”

So, did Nicky have this in mind when he said we were going to have “fun”!? From the very beginning!? And Tseng—he knew this was going to happen to me? Is that why he gave me those clothes!? 

_No kidding, genius._

00000

Understandably, a spanner has been thrown into our plans.

Yuffie insists on letting us make a stop at the fifty-fourth floor. She drags me out of the elevator—I nearly trip all over my sagging pants—and she forces her bodyguard to carry all of my belongings. A loud alarm is ringing throughout the entire hallway, and a few people our rushing out of their apartments.

As she pulls me down the hall, Yuffie makes another call on her cell.

“Papa, it’s me!” she says. “Yes… I know about the alarm… yes, it was me. My bodyguards… nine of them are dead. No, I’m not hurt. Papa…no. Papa, NO! It wasn’t me. You see, I’m with someone…you know about Dr. Strife’s son, right?”

I lose track of the conversation altogether. I’m so mentally haggard; my mind is still reeling… over everything. The only thing I can feel is Marlene’s hand clasped into mine. Only God knows why she’d want to hold it now.

Yuffie’s place isn’t very far from the elevator. She lets go of my hand and fishes out her key (also hidden in her kimono). She opens the door and ushers me, still conversing with her father over our predicament, and leads me through a small living room. The alarm goes on forever.

Yuffie snatches the suitcase from bodyguard’s hand, pushes Marlene and me right into the next room, and follows us inside.

There’s a bed only a few feet away. I go weak at the knees and fall right at the foot of it; my arms rest on it for support. Yuffie sighs and begins to close the door behind her.

“Ojou-sama, wait!”

A guard grabs the door, trying to keep Yuffie from closing it. I look back at him and realize that he’s that same, outspoken bodyguard who was rude to me in the lobby.

_Of course **he’d** survive._

“Ladies only, please,” she replies (more demanding rather than requesting). “No peeking.”

“I heard that!” I complain.

Yuffie picks up her foot (she’s wearing a pair of geta) and stomps it over his. He yowls and steps back, and she slams the door in victory. She locks it for good measure.

“That man,” she murmurs, “all muscle and worry and no brains at all!”

I can only groan in response.

Yuffie tosses the suitcase onto the bed. She hurriedly walks over to her dresser and pulls out some casual clothes. She holds them over her arm and faces me again.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to call Sephiroth-sama,” she declares.

“Come again, Miss Kisaragi!?” I rejoin.

“We’re in a tight spot.”

“But my voice! He won’t recognize my voice!”

“Toughen it! Just try! You have to talk to him!”

“Why don’t **you** do it?”

Yuffie recoils and flushes bright read. “No, no, no! I couldn’t possibly talk to Sephiroth-sama **_on the phone_**. I couldn’t possibly…”

She rushes into her bathroom and escapes, leaving no more room for argument. It’s just me and the cell phone in my pocket. I hope vehemently that the cell got crushed.

I pull it out my pocket, and to my exasperation, the cell has only sustained a few scratches. Nothing wants to go my way.

I look up at Marlene, who’s standing before me. Her expression is very cold, very sober.

“You alright, dear?” I ask.

“Hmmm…” she gurgles. 

“I’m sorry…I should never have brought you here…” 

“So now you’re telling me… that I’ve had an older sister all this time?” she mumbles.

I sit there for a moment, completely dumbfounded. I’m not entirely sure if Marlene is grasping the severity of the situation… or that she’s only more concerned about the sudden change of my body.

Well, leave it to her—the only person who could possibly change the mood after something like that.

God bless her little heart.

“I’m your older brother,” I reply firmly. “And don’t you ever forget that!”

I’m still shaking from the ordeal; the word _shell-shocked_ wouldn’t do justice to what I’m feeling.

I hoist myself up onto the bed and face the screen of my phone head on. I swallow for courage and press for speed dial.

_I knew I was going to regret sneaking off… but boy, did I not know the **half** of it!_

The dial tone picks up in less than a few of seconds. I hear his voice on the other end… and nearly piss myself.

“Had enough adventure for one day?” he drawls sarcastically.

I try to reply but end up choking on incoherent babble.

“I thought I was just going easy on you, you know,” he continues. “Letting you have a head start when I **_saw_** you sneaking off. But I guess I was being too nice…”

“Seph-chan… I…” I manage to say in a quiet voice.

 “Dammit, Cloud!” he yells angrily. “What part of ‘don’t go outside alone’ don’t you understand!? What the hell has gotten into you?! And why is the alarm—”

I try to answer again, but I strange noise comes out my mouth. It sounds like a cross between a whine and a sob. There’s a long pause.

“Princess?” he asked, his tone drastically softens.

“Would you mind coming to get me **_before_** you chew me out, you bloody git!?” I finally scream back.

And then, there’s an even longer pause. The alarm bell is driving me mad!

_He doesn’t know my voice at all, does he?_ I thought. _He doesn’t know me anymore! What do I do!?_

But then, Seph-chan answers me back in hesitant, mortified voice.

“…Princess?”

He knows it’s me? He actually knows?!

_Thank God for my British accent!_

“Whose phone do you think this is?!” I cry frantically. “Help me! Some psychotic, pink-haired slut attacked me … I killed five people… and now, I think my plumbing’s changed! _Please_ , help me!!!”

“Oh, God no…” Seph-chan mutters.

I hear a cacophony of noise coming from his end: the alarm, rustling, and talking excitably. And then, I hear the chime of an elevator.

“Where are you now?” he replies tiredly.

“I’m in Miss Kisaragi’s place,” I tell him. “Room 5407.”

I clicks his teeth. “Kisaragi… stay right where you are! If you move, I’m gonna shave off your hair and make you eat it!”

“Wait a minute!” I protest. “You won’t recognize me when you get here! I look… different!”

“I’ll be counting on that,” he deadpans, and the connection cuts off.

It’s over.

I lay my cell on the bed. Marlene climbs up beside me and wraps her arm around my tiny waist.

“What’s going on?!” she pleads. “Why did those people try to hurt us? And why are you a girl?”

I cover my eyes with my hand. “That’s what I’d like to know…”

But Seph-chan knows. He **knows**.

He knew that I was in danger the whole time. Why else was he so jumpy when Tseng showed up at the house?! And if he knew it was me, even when my voice had changed, then he must have known that **_this_** was eventually going to happen to me! He knew everything… and said nothing at all!

I’m not worried about getting killed by him anymore… because I’m going to kill him **_first_** …

Yuffie comes out of the bathroom at last. No longer in her fancy kimono, she now wears a good white blouse with a ruffled collar, brown suede shorts and a pair of yellow, knee high stockings. Tomboyish, but very fitting.

“I hate having to look so casual in front of an important person,” Yuffie says, “but it can’t be helped. Let’s get you into your clothes, Cloud-sama. You can borrow some underwear from me.”

“You’re going to help me dress!?” I cry, scooting away.

“We’re both girls,” she replies.

“I am **NOT** a girl!”

“Well, you look like one, and that’s all that matters. Get out your clothes and let’s strip please! Unless, you actually **_know_** how to put on a bra.”

She has me there. I stand up with a whimper and open the suitcase. I shut my eyes tight, undo my pants, and let them fall to the floor. Marlene covers her eyes with both hands.

“Nice legs,” Yuffie says, trying to lighten the mood. My ears grow hot.

“Very funny,” I seethe, unbuttoning my shirt. “I feel so much better.”

“But you look very good as a woman,” she says.

“Aren’t you shocked at all?!”

“I was at first… but it **_sure_** gave me clarity.”

I stop in the middle of my shirt, my cleavage in full view. _Is it just me… or are they a tad **bigger** than what I saw in the dream this morning!?_

“Clarity?” I question. “On what?”

“I suspected it when you saved us from those pigs,” Yuffie replies. “I wasn’t certain… but when I saw that you had grown this skin of yours, I knew it had to be the case!”

The skin? She knows about ‘skins’?

“W-what do you mean?”

Yuffie clears her throat and stares at me with a resolute look in her eye.

“Cloud-sama, you are not a normal human.”

My whole body freezes. My arms drop to my sides.

She bites her lip and grabs my shirt, undoing the rest of the buttons.

“It’s not something I can just talk about,” she answers. “You’d better ask **your** people about it instead.”

No more information out of Yuffie.

And then suddenly, I’m bare-chested in front of her. I’m not sure whether to care or whether to cover myself. Male instincts die-hard.

“I don’t think my bras are going to fit you,” Yuffie realizes, frowning. “Seeing that I’m outdone by a boy… makes me feel very… **_inadequate_**.”

 “Please stop **_looking_** ,” I beg piteously.

_I wish I’d gotten shot._

Yuffie picks up the bluish-gray dress and opens it. A lacy, baby-blue bra and some matching panties fall onto the bed.

_Is Tseng… a pervert?_


	10. Awakening - Chapter Nine: Time to run

After a while, that infernal alarm his shut off. 

Meanwhile, as I wait a few minutes longer for _Sephiroth_ to arrive, I’ve perched myself on Yuffie’s bed and resigned myself to taking my anger out on an apple. After slicing it onto a plate, I start making rabbit ear shapes. I end up feeling every cut, every painstaking slice as I form the ears into the skin. 

I seem to have no problems using my now _smaller_ hands. 

“So, you’re able to make rabbit shapes with the peels,” Yuffie says. “I’ve never been given the chance to learn.” 

I scowl. “And I’m actually able to think of food!” 

I hand Marlene another slice, with its little ears sticking up, and she gobbles it without savoring the taste. Understandably, she’s not smiling. 

“Actually, I’m kind of hungry myself,” Yuffie admits sheepishly. 

“That’s probably because you’re **_used_** to this sort of thing,” I surmise. 

I cut another set of rabbit ears onto the fourth slice and pop it into my mouth. I start on the next one before I even finish chewing. 

“That elevator takes forever,” Yuffie muses aloud. 

This has to be the **worst** day of my life. 

And now, to my utter dismay, I’m dressed up like _this_. Everything I’m wearing feels alien to me, right from the hair ties I’ve borrowed from Yuffie to the baby-doll shoes on my feet. To make matters worse, my hair has fallen flat, grown out, and has somehow managed to keep the tufts in place. 

So, here I am, stuck in this “skin”, in an outfit that makes me look like a gyaru girl, with my hair done up in a set of double ponytails that reminds me of **_Big Bird_** from Sesame Street!  

Adding insult to injury, when another set of bodyguards arrived to greet Yuffie, one of them leered at my legs. 

Though… as far as my new endowments are concerned, it’s not so bad. In fact, they’re tolerably small size… a mere 34B. 

And the breeze is still refreshing. 

But still…I… 

“I feel like a fool!” I mutter. 

“I think you look quite nice,” Yuffie disagrees. “But Tseng-san should’ve given you some high-cut **boots** instead. Want some perfume?” 

I groan and look down at myself. Perhaps, I’d actually think better of this get-up if I were a **real** girl. 

Though, I find it very strange that almost everything fits me nicely. Only, the bra feels a tad snug. How did Tseng know all of my sizes before I ever changed? 

But, right now, the state of my body is not my main concern. I’m impatiently waiting for _his truly_ to come for me. It shouldn’t be much longer now. 

“Are you really so angry with Sephiroth-sama?” Yuffie asks. “Surely, there’s an explanation…” 

“He lied to me by omission,” I reply, my voice like ice. “They **all** did. Pure and simple. And don’t worry. I’ll just put a bruise or two on him.” 

_And maybe gouge his eyes out with this knife…_  

“Your parents withheld information too,” she reminds me. 

“They’re my parents,” I counter. “I forgive them. And they’re **dead**.” 

“Have you ever considered,” Yuffie answers, “that you were being protected?” 

I stop to think for a minute. Yes, I can safely assume that **that** was the reason… 

“That doesn’t excuse telling me **nothing** at all,” I argue. 

Yuffie hums in agreement. “It’s a very strange situation. I can’t understand it.” 

Someone knocks at the door. Yuffie becomes alert. 

“What is it?” she inquires. 

“Skandon-sama has arrived.” 

Yuffie’s nostrils flare, and she turns to me. “Your victim awaits, sir.” 

I finish the next slice and quickly fashion another one, both for Marlene to take. 

“Go outside with Miss Kisaragi, dear.”

Marlene obediently slides off of the bed, and Yuffie takes her by the hand. They open the door, and slip out. I barely watch them leave as I fix the last two rabbits. 

The door squeaks open, but I don’t look up. He doesn’t say a word, but I **_know_** it’s him. I just know. 

The door closes, and I start carving at the last piece. Silence. He’s probably wondering what on earth I’m doing or, at least, why. 

“Hello,” Sephiroth greets, in a saccharine sweet tone.

I stop in the middle of the first ear, put everything back onto the plate, and wipe my hands with a napkin. Setting everything to the side, I stand up, smooth out the wrinkles in my shorts, toss one of my long ponytails behind my back, and finally make eye contact with my lost companion. 

We’re probably two doubles right now: two angry people under _calm_ facades. 

“Hello,” I reply back, in a similar tone. 

And then, I ball my hand into fist and clobber him in the face.

Sephiroth stumbles back in a daze but manages to support himself against the door.

“Go to hell, you son of a whore **bitch**!” I hiss.  

“L-leave my mother out of this!” he growls back. “Have you lost your mind!? I’m the one who supposed to be pissed!” 

At that, I shove him into the door with all my might. 

“Oh, save it!” I cut him off. “I’m mad, Mr. Skandon! I’m really steamed! Devil take it! Someone obviously wants to kidnap me or kill me or **_worse_** , and you didn’t have the common courtesy to say ‘duck and cover’! You didn’t even say Madame Luciano was involved with the Mafia! Or that she was my mum’s sister! Or that we were cousins for heaven’s sake!” 

Sephiroth quickly recovers from the blow and straightens up. “Stop pointing the finger! Everything would’ve been perfectly fine… if you hadn’t gone AWOL!” 

“If everyone hadn’t clammed up on me,” I shoot back, “I wouldn’t have had to find information **_elsewhere_**! And how do you know I still wouldn’t have gotten blindsided?! Or ended up looking like this?!” 

“You would’ve been safer… if you were in the **_group_**!” he huffs. “But when you set foot in this building—ON YOUR OWN—you were a sitting target! 

“Which I would’ve known… IF YOU HAD JUST **TOLD** ME!” 

Sephiroth rubs his forehead in frustration. “I suppose you now **_realize_** that it’s not… that… simple!” 

“Which I would’ve known if you had just thrown me a bloody bone!” I snap. 

“Couldn’t you just accept that there were **_some things_** you didn’t need to know yet!?” 

I grit my teeth and snatch a handful of my hair. “And I didn’t need to know that **_this_** was going to happen!?” 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen to for another year!” 

My fist itches to throw another punch. “So, you were going to keep me in the dark… **_for an entire year_**?!” 

“No, no! We were going to tell you after you got comfortable… two or three months from now… when we knew it was safe!” 

“Oh, that makes it all better! How could it possibly **NOT** be the right time to know I’m not **_normal_**?!” 

“That’s what I told **_her_**!” 

Wait. What? 

Sephiroth rubs his face. He mumbles something about the kick of a mule. 

“God knows I’d eat shit for the Madame,” he says, shaking his head, “but I thought it was crazy from the start. So did Shera. At least **I** was given a fair warning.” 

For a moment, I forget to breathe. _Is he saying… that’s he the same as—?_  

He holds up his hand toward me in a friendly manner. “Welcome onboard, fellow _freak_.” 

The next thing I know, I fall backside first into the bed again. I’m floored, absolutely floored. 

“You want to hit me again?” he asks. “Or are you feeling better now?” 

“No, and no,” I reply in defeat. “Are you feeling better?” 

“Not really,” he responds. “You just punched me, and it kinda stings.” 

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. _Bloody Mary, I’m a nutcase._  

“How did you even find me anyway?” 

“I had a feelings you were up to something, so I emptied your pockets while you were napping.” 

My jaw drops. Forget Kitten or The Tiger. “Bloodhound” is a better way to describe what Sephiroth Skandon is. 

And then, Bloodhound quickly brings a fist down on top of my head. 

“Owww!!!” I cry. 

“Why did you have to _traipsing_ off to **oblivion**?” Seph-chan seethes. “You crazy little monkey! What do you even **get** out of it!? Was it worth it!?” 

“Do we even need to have this conversation again!? I—” 

“I’m asking what you found!” 

“I went to Tseng’s apartment and got my birthday presents,” I grumble, smarting from the top of my head. 

The corner of his mouth begins to twitch. He gives me a look that clearly states, “I’m going to break you in two.” 

“I see…” he replies menacingly. 

“And they were quite useful too. If I hadn’t gotten them, we might not have survived.” 

“Yeah, and if you hadn’t come here, you might not have been attacked.” 

Screw him. 

“How did you even find all of that out… in just a few hours?” Seph-chan asks. 

“Talking to Miss Kisaragi was very informative,” I answer. “And I hate to break it you… but this attack was **planned**. They knew I was at Tseng’s apartment… and that Lola Hopkins had a machine gun hidden in a guitar case. They must have followed me here and—” 

Seph-chan stops dead. He grabs me by the shoulders; the look in his eyes is utterly fierce. 

“You didn’t say it was **_Lola Hopkins_** who jumped you!” 

“That’s even _worse_?” I inquire. 

He grabs my arm and forces me to get up. “We’re getting out of here. NOW!” 

“Wait a minute… my stuff!” I protest. 

I wriggle out of his grip and collect all of my things. He quickly notices the metal tub. 

“Is there a nodachi in that tube?” Seph-chan assumes. 

“Yes,” I reply. “How did you know?” 

He groans and opens the door. “Let’s… just… get out of here… before we get into even **more** trouble…” 

Seph-chan grabs me and roughly ushers me out of the room. Yuffie, Marlene, and company are standing by. One of them is holding onto his metal tube (I still believe that there’s a sword in there too). 

He turns to Yuffie and tells her, “Your father’s still going to have his meeting with the Madame… but you’re going to have to come with us.” 

“They’ve seen my face,” she replies knowingly. “I’ll go get my pistol and my knives. It’ll be nice to see Tifa again.” 

“And your bouncers can’t come with us.” 

Yuffie is taken aback. “Why not?” 

And her “number one” outspoken guard opens his mouth to argue.  

“Are you insane?!” he sneers. “I’ll be damned if we hand Oujo-sama over to the likes of you!” 

“Oh, you shut up!” Yuffie bellows, stamping her foot. 

“You’ll either die or take up space!” Seph-chan adds brutally. 

The bodguard steps back and makes a choking sound. Yuffie scurries off back to her room to get her pistol and her knives. 

I don’t think anything can surprise me anymore… but I already know that I’m dead wrong. 

No pun intended. 

Seph-chan covers his eyes with his hands. “Hopkins… so, that’s how it is.” 

“I take it that the name Hopkins is a bad thing?” I ask nervously. 

_Besides the fact that Lola should be taken away._  

“I’ll explain it to you on the way to Cape Town,” he answers. 

I freeze in horror. Yuffie’s predictions were right on the mark. 

“You asked concierge, didn’t you?” I declare. 

Seph-chan glares at me and grapples me into a full nelson. I struggle in vain. 

“Of course I did! And you were probably going to try and give me the slip through the dance club, weren’t you!? That’s the oldest trick in the book around here!” 

All I can do it wheeze. 

Well, nearly all of my plans have failed magnificently.

At the very least, I’ve learned four things. One, I’m in the midst of criminals. Two, I’m in over my head. Three, something about me just isn’t normal. And lastly, there is no escape from Sephiroth Skandon… 

“Wait, you actually letting me go?!” I ask. 

“Someone **did** just try to snatch you,” he answers. “I’d be an ass to take you back to the house! Besides, you obviously want to go very badly…”

 

00000

 

And now, even after all of that, we’re still heading down to the dance club… in Satan’s elevator. 

Yuffie and I silently exchange looks, while Marlene clings to me. Meanwhile, Seph-chan is speaking to Shera on his phone. He mentions something about boarding a helicopter, and tells her to bring everyone. 

Every-one. 

I am **NOT** looking forward to seeing Zack again. 

He hangs up and sighs gruffly. “This is all wonderful! Beautiful! Ever since Dr. Strife died, everything’s gone **_spectacularly_** wrong!” 

“Well, don’t blame me,” I grouse quietly. 

“I wasn’t.” 

Yuffie cradles the wrapped bottle in her arms. 

“We’re taking a helicopter ride to the plane?” I ask. 

“Standard procedure,” Seph-chan replies. “It cuts out traffic and all those tollbooths…” 

“What’s so important about ‘Hopkins’ anyway?” I ask impatiently. 

“It’s a long story,” he says, in a voice that doesn’t want to be argued with. “I’ll tell you on the plane.” 

“You’re just stalling!” I accuse. 

“Stalling!” Marlene chimes. 

_I love you, my dear._  

Seph-chan raises his hands. “Great. I don’t need **two** pretty faces ganging up on me.” 

“Thank you for that, Sephiroth,” I answer with a dark look. “I’ll **kill** you in your sleep tonight!” 

“I don’t want to repeat myself! That’s why I’m waiting until the whole team is present. This is **_everyone’s_** problem now.” 

At that, I have nothing to say against him. He exhales sharply.

“The original plan,” he admits, “was that your parents were going to tell you the whole truth right after your sixteenth birthday. Then, you were supposed to stay with them until January and **then** come live with us. **That** was how it was **_supposed_** to happen.” 

“I thought you didn’t like repeating yourself,” I mumble. 

“I’m trying to be nice!” 

“You see?” Yuffie says cheerfully. “I told you there was an explanation!” 

  _Better late than never, I suppose._  

“By the way,” he says. “What’s in the bottle?” 

“It’s saké,” I reply. “It’s for you.” 

He wrinkles his nose. “If it’s from Tseng, then I’m not drinking it.”

 

00000 

A few minutes later, the elevator reaches the bottom, and I’m thankful to get out. I’ve developed a paranoia to this particular contraption. 

We walk through a moderately lit hallway, with twists and turns, plain white walls, and nondescript carpet. We pass by several people who are going to and coming from somewhere else, some of them dressed casually and others in sharp business suits. One woman—covered in a sweat and smelling like hard liquor—is wearing a bikini top with a print of the American flag and a pair of skinny jeans. 

All the while, Seph-chan has his arm practically glued onto my shoulder. I can feel his eyes burning into my skull from time to time, like a hawk scouting its prey. Oh, what I’d give to be with Mary Poppins, walking along some suburban street in late 19th century London. 

“Let me go,” I beg. “Your hand’s cold.” 

“I don’t trust you, Princess,” Seph-chan replies sternly. 

“You’re making me look like your underaged girlfriend!” I declare. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he rejoins. “You look like a cute little sister.” 

Yuffie stifles a laugh out of respect. 

“I thought going through the club was the oldest trick in the book,” I recall irritably. 

“We’ll be fine,” he replies. “For a member of the female species, Lola isn’t all that bright.” 

“So, you know her well?” I assume. 

“More than I’d care to.”

At the end of the hall, two, large bouncers are standing near a sound proof door; it’s decorated in purple leather. I immediately surmise that this is the club’s entrance. We stop right in front of them. They eye Yuffie and Marlene. 

“Emergency, Mr. Skandon?” one of them asks. 

“Unfortunately,” he answers. 

The other one opens the door for us, and I’m able to hear muffled music coming through the dark hall. 

“You know the rules,” they say. 

“Thanks,” Seph-chan replies, and we all go through the door without incident. 

A short flight of steps leads to another door.   

“When we go inside,” I tell Yuffie, “Please cover Marlene’s ears.” 

“Of course,” Yuffie responds, and hands the bottle to Seph-chan. He glares at it with disdain. 

“Where is everyone else anyway?” I inquire. 

“Waiting in a cushy, private room inside of the club,” Seph-chan answers. 

“I wish Papa had one of those around here,” Yuffie muses. 

As soon as the door is opened, the storm from inside gives me unforgiving slap in the face. As promised, Yuffie clamps her hands over Marlene’s ears, much to the poor little girl’s discomfort. 

There is no way I’m letting my sweet love’s ears get damaged. I don’t care **what** the situation is. 

To my absolute horror, I quickly realize that the song blaring through the speakers is one of my favorite oldie dance songs: “Good Morning, Paris (Dr. Kucho! Remix) by Dan Marciano. 

Great. Just bloody great! Of all the songs in the world, it had to be that! Now, whenever I hear it, I’m going to think of machine guns, blood, a fuchsia-haired bitch in teddy bear underwear, and this God-forsaken building! This song is dead to me! 

As I brood on my current misfortunes, we walk between rows of tables. We pass on through, and for some reason, my nose is overloaded with the smell of liquor, spirits, and beer (is alcohol even supposed to have a potent scent?). 

Down below, on another floor, the crowd is happily gyrating to the music (lucky them). Up above, there’s a third floor. This dance club is absolutely huge! 

In the back of the club, we stop in front of another soundproof door. Seph-chan produces a key. 

“Are they going to know it’s me?” I ask as he opens the door. 

“Probably,” he mutters. 

On the other side of the door, there’s a small foyer, leading to the “cushy, private room”. I swallow for courage, and we walk right in. 

“Good afternoon, kiddies!” Seph-chan announces. “Did you call the taxi van?” 

All three of them look up. I swallow again. 

“Yes,” Tifa says, “They should be here in ten…”

Tifa suddenly trains her eyes on me and stops like a deer in the headlights. She stands up on reflex and gasps as if the air’s being sucked out of her lungs. 

She totally recognizes me. 

Why couldn’t my face have changed along with my body? 

Beside her, Elena sits as she is, bug-eyed and gaping. 

But Reno… 

“What’s with you two?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

I never expected much from Reno. 

He looks straight at me, gives me a good once over, and then leers at me. I want to hit him. 

“Who’s this?” he inquires. “Did you get a new girlfriend, Seph?” 

Seph-chan pushes me closer towards them. “Now, Cloud. Don’t be shy. ” 

I grunt in dismay. 

Reno becomes confused and glares hard at me, finally putting his miniscule intellect into hyper drive. He sits back, eyes wide in shock, but then, the corner of his mouth curves. 

He points at me and bursts into a fit of laughter. 

“Ha ha ha! I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it! He can actually grow a ‘skin’! Ha ha ha ha ha! At least your body finally matches your face! Ha ha ha ha! Sucks to be you!” 

_I’m going to put a bullet in your head and let the fish fight over your corpse in the Hudson… you brainless wonder!_  

Tifa scowls, walks up to where he’s sitting, and kicks him in the groin. Reno squeals bloody murder and collapses onto the floor. Marlene finally remembers to laugh. 

“You’re the one sucks!” Tifa mutters. 

When things calm down, I’m going to ask Tifa on a date. If she’ll have me… 

“Hello, Tifa,” Yuffie greets. She wraps her arms around Tife and gives her a hug from behind. 

“Hey, Yufs…” Tifa replies. “How’s you’re—” 

“Wait a minute,” she interrupts. “A taxi? What about the complimentary private car? Should we cancel it?” 

Seph-chan shakes his head. “No… if we let it go, Lola might think we’re still going to use it. It could buy us some time.” 

He looks down, where Reno is lying in the fetal position. 

“I think you kicked him too hard, Teef,” he says. 

Tifa turns up her nose. “Just throw him over your shoulder and carry him.” 

_Ouch._

 

00000

 

When the taxi arrived, about a block away, everything went with a bang. We slipped out of the emergency exit, hurried down the block like a herd of wildebeest, and piled into the car like scared little mice (though Seph-chan, who climbed in last, was relatively calm). 

He offered the driver a large tip if he drove fast, and we were off like a rocket.The trip led us onto the freeway and out of New York City. 

For the most part, it was a very uneventful and safe drive. Nevertheless, the majority of us had our fingers crossed. At one point, Elena started yanking covetously on my hair. 

I want to cry right now. I really do. 

An hour later, the taxi van stops in front of a tall, chain-link fence. On the other side, I see a large, gray, tandem rotor helicopter—almost as large as a small airplane!

I suppose I _should_ be disturbed that I know what type of helicopter this is (when I’ve previously never even heard of one), but by now, I’m just too numb to care. 

We all pour out of the van with our luggage, the driver is paid a nice sum of money, and we walk along the fence towards a security booth and a gate. There are two female guards stationed at the booth. They glance over our faces and ask for the code. Seph-chan utters a nine-digit number, and they open the gate, letting us to go through. 

But I don’t feel any better. 

A comforting hand pats me on my back as everyone makes a beeline for the helicopter. 

“Don’t worry,” Tifa says cheerfully. “I know things look bad now, but everything will work out. And that skin of yours… it’s not permanent. It’ll be gone in the morning!” 

_Okay, now I feel a **little** better._  

“I would’ve been much calmer if someone had told me that,” I reply. 

The wind of the rotor fans practically blew right through me; my hair probably looks like a flying bird. Everyone files inside the helicopter, one by one. The pilot turns his head to acknowledge us. 

“On the run again, eh?” he simpers. 

“Go piss up a flag pole,” Seph-chan mutters indignantly. 

I grab my companion’s arm. “I don’t think they would’ve set up a tandem rotor just for me.” 

“I made a few changes over the phone when I went up to get you,” he reveals. 

“A few?!” 

As soon as everyone’s climbed aboard, Seph-chan quickly orders us to crouch on the floor and stay away from the windows… even when Reno mentions that they’re bullet proof. 

“Take off in twenty minutes,” he orders the pilot. “No exceptions.” 

“But what about the rest?!” Elena squeaks. “What if they don’t—” 

“They’ll get the idea and go to the plane themselves. If we stay too long, we might get caught up in a gunfight.” 

The word “gunfight” sends a shiver down my spine.  

And so, we wait. For five minutes. For eight minutes. For eleven minutes. For fifteen minutes. For seventeen minutes. Once or twice, we sneak a peek at the bottom of the windows. Everyone glares into their watches or the clocks on their phones. 

“Eighteen minutes on the clock,” the pilot announces. 

The air becomes thick inside the helicopter. Wishing… hoping… worrying. Would they make it in time? What would happen if they didn’t? 

But then, as Tifa carefully looks out the window, she beats her fist on the wall. 

“It’s them!” she says. “That’s one of our cars! They’ve… something’s happened!” 

Suddenly, everyone gathers around the left side of the helicopter in a thick cluster, trying to get a good look out of the window. From the little room I have—Reno’s red hair is obstructing some of my view—I’m able to see a silver truck stopping at the security booth. The fender’s been damaged, and I can see cracks in the windows. 

_Oh no…_  

The truck gets past the booth and speeds frantically towards the helicopter. When it draws close, I’m able to see the extent of the damage. One side of the car is badly dented, and the paint job is severely damaged. The windows have strange spider cracks. 

_Bullets,_ I thought (without really thinking). 

“I’m glad we didn’t go back to the house,” Elena muses thankfully. 

The truck skids to a stop by a few meters from the helicopter, and the passengers rush out in relief. Shera is holding her arm; she’s bleeding. My heart skips a beat. 

We first help Shera get into a seat. Tifa goes to the back of the helicopter and produces a first-aid kit from a compartment. After the last person comes inside, the door is mechanically closed, and the helicopter takes off. Everyone takes a deep breath and lets it out. 

“What happened?” Seph-chan asks her. 

Tifa begins cleaning Shera’s wound. She winces and closes on of her eyes. Thankfully, it was just a bad graze. 

“Alice Hopkins happened,” she curses. “She tried to put the ruddy drop on us when we were leaving the house.” 

“Hopkins again,” he says. 

_There’s more of her?!_  

“What about the hired help?” he asks. 

“They know the drill,” she replies. “They’re safe.” 

“Are… are you alright, Shera?” I ask meekly. “Your arm…” 

Shera turns to me with a curious glance. “Who are—”  

She looks at me hard and draws back in surprise. 

“CLOUD?!” she squeals. 

The helicopter becomes very quiet, save for the steady hum of the engine. 

The humiliation never stops. 

Shera glares at him. “You never mentioned this over the phone!” 

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” Seph-chan answers. 

No one else speaks. 

 “But it’s not supposed to happen!” she shrills. “He’s not even seventeen!” 

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. We’ll have him checked out as soon as we get to Cape Town.” 

_People are after us, and all they can think about is my body?_  

I clear my throat. No matter. 

“Your arm,” I ask her again. “Are you alright?” 

Shera tries to smile and opens her mouth to respond. 

“This is all your fault!” 

A chill goes through the air. Everyone looks up, and Jessie is absolutely boiling in her seat. Her eyes are trained on me. 

“Jess!” Zack chides her. 

“We were living just fine until **you** showed up!” she seethes. “And then, you created that incident when you put yourself on the spotlight in the facility. If it weren’t for you… none of this would’ve happened.” 

Well, for the most part, I’m completely startled. And incensed! How on earth was this supposed to be my fault? After all, I’m the one who knows little to nothing! Am I the scapegoat only because I just got here?! 

“But that isn’t true!” Yuffie tries to defend me. “Cloud-sama is not to…” 

“My fault?” I snort. 

And then, I find myself laughing. Actually laughing. My world is falling apart, and I’m laughing. And the words start dripping out of my mouth like sweet venom. 

“You silly, little twit!” I mock. “You won’t even accept me or consider me as part of the group, And yet, when trouble arises, everything is suddenly **my** fault!? I just went to that building to get something that belonged to me. Why Miss Lola Hopkins decided to attack me there is _her_ business! So, get off my back! Blaming others for your problems is **not** professional!” 

Marlene clutches my arm and throws her little raspberry at Jessie. Jessie grits her teeth but doesn’t reply. Seph-chan claps in the background. 

“Well said,” he agrees. 

And then, I decompress. I really need to ease up on my temper. 

“But—!” Jessie murmurs. 

“They were going to pounce on us,” he continues, “whether he went to the facility or not! Lola isn’t smart, but the Hopkins planned everything. They **knew** Cloud was coming. It was a disaster waiting to happen. So, can we all promise to pull our heads out of our asses and get along?” 

The helicopter grows silent again. 

“I’m glad we understand each other,” he says. 

“But I just decided to go this morning,” I tell him. “How could they…” 

Seph-chan waves me off. “I’ll explain all I can when we get on that plane!” 

Shera hisses a little as Tifa wraps the bandage. “Why are we even going to Cape Town?” 

“That’s not a question for me.”

He glances my way. 

“I’m not spilling anything,” I answer, “until we get on that confounded plane!” 

I sigh wearily and rub my sister’s head. Why can’t everything just go back to normal?


	11. Awakening - Chapter Ten: I'm a container

On the way, Miss Kisaragi gets airsick. It’s not a pretty sight. 

Her face turns pale green, and all of the boys are scrambling toward a small box in the back of the helicopter. Seph-chan merely turns away, muttering, “Lord, give me strength.” Zack manages to get the emergency bag first. Yuffie grabs the bag from his hands and hurls. Marlene grimaces and buries her face into my… chest. 

“Don’t worry, sweet love,” I tell her. “It’ll all be over soon.” 

I have to tell you, though: as much as I feel for the lady, it’s a very welcome distraction. For all of us. 

Ten minutes later, while Miss Kisaragi is trying to recuperate, the pilot announces that we’re getting close to the drop-off. Shera mentions that we’re somewhere in Upstate New York. Marlene still has her face buried in my chest, and now, she’s nuzzling and muttering incoherent words. Seph-chan watches with a disturbed look. 

“Is that… okay?” he questions. 

“I suppose so,” I reply (with uncertainty). “I think it reminds her of Mum…” 

“It sure looks nice, though,” Reno leers from his seat. 

Elena smacks him. “Go screw yourself, you perverted freak!” 

Seph-chan rolls his eyes. 

As we close in on the drop-off point, the helicopter flies over an open field. I look out the window and see a lit up airstrip in the distance. I can see the airplane, and alongside it, there’s a large building. I almost sigh in relief... but I’m not optimistic enough to count my chickens before they hatch. 

A few minutes later, the helicopter begins its descent. 

As we get closer and closer to the ground, Jessie suddenly shouts out: 

“We’ve got company!” 

Everyone looks out the windows. A black car is driving on a road adjacent to the field. It drives off the road, into the field, and heads straight towards our landing point. I gently push Marlene off, and she grumbles in protest. 

The whole group seems to be on edge. No one was expecting anyone to come and greet us. The appearance of the car is definitely strange… but to me, not very troublesome. If it was someone who was sent to harm us, wouldn’t there be more than one? 

“I think I’m becoming a little too calm about all this,” I comment. 

“Why would you think that?” Seph-chan replies incredulously. “You’ve killed several people today. You grew breasts inside of an elevator. You’ve learned that your mother was a Mafia princess. And you just discovered that you can do the martial arts on instinct. Why would you be fazed if some mystery person came to say hello to us?” 

I think for a few seconds and nod. “Of course. How stupid of me.” 

The helicopter sets down on the ground. By then, the car has stopped several yards away. The passenger door opens, and to my surprise, Tseng climbs out and slams it behind him. His hair blows back in the helicopter’s wake. My companion stiffens in outrage. The entire group becomes tense, and I can sense an overwhelming dread. 

Ignoring the glares and mental curses being flung on our unwanted guest, I stand up from my seat and grab my “luggage”. I walk straight towards the cockpit and command the pilot to open the door. He reluctantly pushes the button, and the helicopter opens up for me. 

As I quickly step out, the cold air slaps me in the face. I hear Seph-chan calling out to me, shouting over the engine. 

“Hey! Hey! Heeeeeeey!”

Taking a deep breath, I pay him no mind. I circle around the helicopter and make my way towards… Tseng. Obviously, judging by their reactions, this isn’t going to earn me any brownie points with the rest the group. I can’t dare look back. 

Tseng waves at me with a smug grin on his face. He’s laughing at me. I am not amused. 

A firm hand clamps around my arm, bringing me to a halt.    

“Would you kindly let me go!?” I snarl. 

But Seph-chan tugs me backwards, and I try to escape his grasp. 

“Will you—!” I begin to snap. 

“This man… is not on our side,” he suddenly tells me. “Don’t you forget that…” 

My heart begins to thump in my chest. I almost forget to breathe. 

And then, he simply lets me go… even giving me a slight push forward. I look back at him in shock, but he isn’t even looking at me. He’s giving Tseng a withering look.   

Great. Lovely. 

I trudge forward on my own; my feet are feeling bloody heavy. 

Tseng walks away from the car to meet me. He’s carrying a large shopping bag with a bow wrapped around the handles. More birthday presents, I suppose. 

“Glad to see that you arrived in one piece,” he says. He then hands me the bag. “Here.” 

“Are there any more surprises coming my way?” I ask coldly. 

That’s possibly the most stupid question I’ve ever asked. 

Tseng grins, showing his teeth. “Most likely.” 

“Marvelous.”

 

00000

 

The sky’s growing darker by the minute. The helicopter quickly flees from the drop point. 

Tseng and I walk ahead towards the building. I make sure to keep three feet between us. He’s carrying my suitcase for me like a gentleman. Everyone else keeps a good distance away. 

“Who exactly are you?” I ask curtly. 

“Me?” Tseng replies coyly. “I’m nobody. Only a simple man who walks in the Chinese Underworld. It’s nothing for you to worry your pretty, little head over.” 

I grunt and bite my lip, controlling myself. He snickers. 

When we reach the side entrance, he whips out a small block from his pocket. A key. He looks back towards the others and scowls. 

“I’d understand you bringing Sephiroth and the girl along,” he says, “but I don’t believe that dogs are allowed on airplanes…”

 I ignore the snide remark. “Why do you have a key to this place?” 

“I don’t. This is a skeleton key.” 

I stare at the small block with some fascination. Tseng opens the door and tosses it towards me. I snatch it quickly from the air. 

“Keep it,” he says. “I’ve got dozens of them. You’ll be able to enter every Triads’ outpost in the city of Hong Kong.” 

“I’m not so keen on that,” I reply. 

“Oh… you will be.” 

Tseng lets me go in first and shuts the door behind him. I hear the hydraulics buzzing away in the door and freeze. He shuts his eyes tight and grins with mischief. My eyes open wide. A few seconds later, _someone_ violently bangs their fists against the door. I can hear Seph-chan yelling a slew of profane combos that I’ve never heard of before. Tseng barely contains a laugh. 

I hope someone’s plugging Marlene’s ears. 

The other side of the door quickly grows silent, leaving me to wonder what on earth is going on. 

“They’re circling around to the front entrance,” Tseng informs me. 

“Sephiroth doesn’t like you very much, does he?” I observe. 

“I believe he loathes the air I breathe,” he replied. “But that’s alright because my feelings are mutual. Let’s have a chat before they find us.” 

I nod curtly, and he leads me through the back hall. All the while, my companion’s warning doesn’t leave my mind: 

_“This man… is not on our side. Don’t you forget that…”_  

And to be quite honest, this Tseng character gives me the creeps. 

But what kind of enemy showers you with gifts and wishes you a happy birthday? 

“I have a question for you,” he says. 

“And what might that be?” I reply. 

“How many times has Nicky spoken to you?” 

At that, I remain silent. I forget to walk altogether, utterly dumbstruck. Tseng glances at me with a laugh. 

“You have the funniest look on your face,” he mocked. “I only wanted to know how he was…” 

“I…uh…” 

I don’t know what to say… nor, do I know if I should say anything at all. I’m just shocked that he’d actually be able to know of my “conversations” with Nicky. 

“Though, to be quite honest…” Tseng continued, “when I left that house, I feared you’d no longer be yourself the next time we’d meet. But …you’ve impressed me. You’re Dr. Strife’s son, alright.” 

“I don’t mean to contradict you,” I answer, “but I don’t feel remotely myself at all!” 

“The fact that you’re _saying_ that proves otherwise.” He gestures toward the door at the end of the hall. “Let’s go.” 

I keep walking nonetheless. 

“Who exactly… is Nicoli?” I ask. “What’s he to you?” 

His lips curl in a smile that resembles a jackal’s. I make sure to side step a few more inches away from him. 

“Nicoli?” Tseng muses. “Hmmm. Ah, yes. Little Nicky.” 

He lets out a sigh, and I can clearly see the nostalgia in his eyes. 

“My little rival. No, more like my archnemesis. But, for some reason, I liked him. I respected him. And I actually hope that he felt the same. We had… very interesting conversations together.” 

I almost chuckle at the thought. It sounds like a situation out of a comic book or some action movie. But… 

“You’re talking in past sense,” I note. 

“Nicky committed suicide almost seventeen years ago,” Tseng reveals. 

… 

My jaw drops. 

“W-what!?” I cry. “Wh… how!? Wha…I…! He’s dead!?” 

Tseng rubs the back of his head. The look on his face becomes oddly clueless. 

“Well, not necessarily dead,” he admits. “But he isn’t exactly alive either. Hmmm. It’s a real brain scratcher…” 

“But… I don’t understand,” I reply. “I’ve been talking to him… the same way I’m talking to you right now!” 

“So… how many times have you spoken to him?” 

“Why should I tell **you** that?” 

Tseng shrugs with a nonchalant smile. “You don’t have to. But…it would be nice… if you told me how he was doing.” 

I narrow my eyes, but I find myself considering it. After all, he’s been very helpful… enemy or not. 

“Well… he’s…” I begin. 

But all I can think about is my impressions on Nicoli. Nicoli…who was smiling in a forest filled with burning cars and corpses. Nicoli… who gleefully beheaded a fish. Nicoli…who laughed and joked after bombing a drug factory. 

“He’s morbidly… cheerful,” I declare. 

“That’s great!” Tseng replied. “He hasn’t changed a bit.” 

I facepalm in disbelief. “And I thought things were starting to make sense! How am I able to talk to a **dead** person in my head? I never even met this bloke before all of this!” 

“Technically, you’re not talking to ‘Nicoli’, per se. You’re actually interacting with his memories.” 

I glare hard at him. The delighted grin on his face is irritating me. 

“That makes even **less** sense! Why the bloody hell do I have someone else’s memories in my head!?” 

“That’s because you’re a container, Mr. Strife.” 

Tseng opens the door and steps to the side. I’m too confused to reply back or even say something. I let him usher me on through. 

_C-container?_ I think. _What do he’s mean by ‘container’…?_  

“Yes… that’s exactly what you are,” he says behind me. “A container that has the memories of Nicoli di Luciano implanted into your brain and your body.” 

I turn around to face him, but he’s already closing the door between us. My briefcase is sitting on the floor. 

“I’m sure the Kitten will be happy to explain everything now,” Tseng sneers. “See you in Cape Town.”

He shuts the door, and for a short minute, all goes quiet.

Or maybe… that’s only me. I’m not sure if I’d hear a bomb go off right now. Container? Implanted memories? In my brain!? I may not know what in hell is going on around here, but any fool could figure out that this can’t possibly be good. 

I drop everything—the nodachi and the shopping bag—and grab my head, pulling at this stupid, bushy hair. My face turns hot, and I grit my teeth. 

_Did Mum and Dad…_ I think. _They knew about this too, didn’t they!?_  

I wanted answers. I didn’t want to find more questions! 

**_“Oh dear…was that too much for you to hear?”_**  

Nicky’s voice is the last thing I want to hear. “Shut up…” 

**_“Well, don’t blame me,”_** he replies. **_“It’s not like I ever had a say in this.”_**  

“Shut up,” I whisper. 

**_“Calm down!”_** he urges. ** _“It’s the only thing that’s kept you safe so far. Isn’t that what matters?”_**  

I feel his hand clamping down on my shoulder. This person, whose supposed to be nothing but a memory. Why is he able to touch me!? Why!? It doesn’t make any sense! 

“Shut up! Don’t touch me!” I yell.

I swerve around fast, putting all my weight into the palm of my hand, and shove him in the chest with all my might. But, instead of seeing Nicky, I end up watching Seph-chan go flying backwards on impact. He falls to the ground with a grunt and thud. 

I cover my mouth, trying to muffle the girly gasp. 

And we’re not alone. Zack, Reno, and Elena are gaping from a few feet away. The rest of the group enters the room and sees him sprawled and wheezing on floor. Marlene is holding Yuffie’s hand. 

“Why’s Kitty-chan on the carpet?” she asks. 

“You **_all_** missed it!” Reno says. His face is nothing short of euphoric. 

My companion slowly sits up on the floor and gives me a dark look. 

“Do you have a problem with me ?” he asks curtly. 

I think tears are running down my face.

 

00000

 

Within the hour, the pilot starts up the engine, the group shuffles up the steps, and the plane _finally_ takes off. And so ends my first trip to the U.S. of A. 

Good times… 

As soon as the pilot announces that we can move around, I fling off my seatbelt, take off my bloody baby doll shoes, and hole up in the bathroom, rinsing my face with cold water. Knocking the wind out of Sephiroth Skandon had been another powerful distraction, but I’d felt too bad about it to let it last. 

The questions in my head are screaming now, and it’s gotten worse. Yes, my parents had to have known about this too. All about me being… a ”container”. All about this ‘memory imprint’. All about… this person who’s talking to me in my head! But… to what extent? How much were they involved in this? Who put these memories in my head in the first place!? Did they know who did it? Or, perhaps… were they the ones who…? 

Someone knocks at the door, and I end up snapping at him or her on reflex. I turn off the faucet and open the door, wanting to know who would dare interrupt my thoughts… and I find myself staring into Seph-chan’s glaring face. Suddenly, I feel very meek; I shrink away. 

“Don’t worry,” he sighs. “I’m not mad at you anymore. I think…” 

“Uhuh…” I nod (in disbelief). 

He grabs my arm, yanks me out of the bathroom, and shuts the door. 

“Alright,” he mutters. “What did he say to you? It’s obviously gotten you all worked up—.” 

“You have a very painful grip,” I complain bitterly. 

“I’m sorry,” he answers (without letting go). “What he did he say?” 

I huff at him, but there’s no point in hiding anymore. At least he’s promised to spill the beans. 

“’You’re a container, Mr. Strife,’ he said. ‘A container that has the memories of Nicoli di Luciano implanted into your brain and your body…’ he said. Oh… and that I’ll be seeing him again in Cape Town.” 

His face goes bright red, and the corner of his mouth starts to twitch. The expression on his face kind of reminds me of a look Mum gave me—years ago— when I accidently cracked her Lalique unicorn. At the very least, that look isn’t for me this time. 

He lets me go, turns around, and waves for me to follow behind. “Come on. We’re gonna need to sit down…”

 

00000

 

It’s been a long time coming for this. The majority of the motley crew has disappeared into a lounge room in the back. Before I leave for the moment of truth, I sink to my knees and give Marlene the strongest bear hug I can muster. She whines in protest, but I don’t feel her struggling. 

“Sweet love… promise me that **_you’ll_** never change,” I beg. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she responds, “but…I guess… I’ll do my best?” 

I suppose that’s enough to hear. 

“I can get taller and grow boobies, right?” she asks. 

“That’s permissible,” I reply. “But stay away from boys.” 

She nods with a smile, and I lift her up onto a seat. 

Tifa takes a deep breath and sips on a ginger ale. Yuffie is fighting her motion sickness again. Biggs and Wedge are glaring at me. 

“You’re not coming with us?” I ask. 

“We’re not allowed,” Tifa replied, smiling softly. “You should get going.” 

I pat Marlene on the head and trudge off towards the back. The door is cracked open by a wastebasket. 

As soon as I open the door, Shera practically shoves a mug of tea under my nose. 

“Chamomile sweetened with pasteurized honey,” she informs me. 

“Good enough,” I reply. “Thanks.” 

The mug is warm in my hands. I didn’t realize how cold they were. 

The lounge is small (it’s in an airplane, of course), and there’s hardly a place to sit anymore. There’s a very long ottoman lined against the wall, and everyone else is piled onto it. Elena isn’t pleased to be sitting next to Reno, but Jessie seems perfectly content next to Zack. Seph-chan is sitting quietly in one of two armchairs; his eyes are closed, there’s a frown on his face, and his hands are folded as if he’s some kind of movie commander. Or perhaps, I only see it that way because of the saké bottle and shot glass sitting next to him on a lamp stand. 

The other armchair is unoccupied, and there’s one more spot on the couch. 

Right. Next. To. Zack. 

Shera closes the door, looks at me, and purposefully sits next to him, and I happily take the chair. I take one more sip of tea for British satisfaction. 

“How come they get to wet their whistles, and we don’t?” Reno complains. 

“Shut up and let Cloud drink his ruddy tea…” Shera says in monotone. 

Seph-chan pours himself a shot. 

“You’re drinking, Seph?” she asks incredulously. 

“Of course I’m drinking,” he replies. “We’ll all want to drink after this…” 

“You can say **_that_** again!” I murmur. 

Seph-chan narrows his eyes at me, and I stare down at my tea, puckering my lips. 

“Well, now that we’re all gathered here,” he begins. “Would you mind telling us _why_ we’re going to South Africa?” 

I take a deep breath and let out a long sigh. I try to think of the best words to say…  since the answer to the question makes me feel like a lunatic. Never mind that they’ll probably understand anyway. 

Ah, screw it! My life is crazy! Everything’s crazy! **Everyone’s** crazy! 

“That’s because…” I reply, “someone by the name of Nicoli di Luciano… told me to go back home.” 

The lounge goes deathly silently. Most of their faces go pale, and Reno gapes almost comically. Seph-chan merely drains the shot glass and fills it again. 

“Judging by the look on your faces,” I continue, “you seem to know him very well…” 

“…L-liar…” Zack stammers. 

I raise an eyebrow. “It’s no lie.” 

“There’s no way you could ever see him!” he argues. “He’s—” 

“Dead?” I finish. 

The lounge becomes quiet again, so I pick up my mug and sip tea again. 

 “What!?” Elena cries. “Dead!? How—” 

“Why does he want you to go back to your hometown?” Seph-chan asks calmly. 

“He didn’t bother telling me,” I answer… ignoring everyone else. 

“That little prick,” he growls… inhaling another shot. “How many times has he talked to you?” 

“I didn’t keep track. For a dead person, I think he’s rather fond of me.” 

“Well, his mind isn’t exactly dead…” 

“Are we supposed to be following this!?” Jessie interrupts. 

“What do you mean Nicky is dead!?” Zack retorts. “He went missing! No one knows what happened…” 

“Nicoli committed suicide a long time ago,” Shera corrects. “It’s a fact.” 

That shuts them up jolly good. It makes me feel a little bit better, knowing that I’m not the only one being kept in the dark. Nevertheless… 

“That’s all fine and dandy,” I say. “Now that that’s cleared up… I’d like to know one thing: why is it that I have a deceased person’s memories… _in my head_?” 

“Do you want the joke answer or the serious answer?” Seph-chan offers. 

“I’m not in the mood for jokes,” I reply bluntly. 

“Even if you won’t like what you hear?” he warns. 

“I’m getting used hearing things I don’t like.” 

He then drinks a third shot of saké.  

“Fine…it’s because _your father_ put them there. On the Madame’s orders. While you were still in a **_test tube_**.” 

My mind goes blank. I end up spilling tea all over my clothes, and I let out a scream from frustration… and the scalding heat. 

I think I should’ve accepted the joke answer.

 

00000

 

“So, let me get this straight,” I say. “When I was a fetus in a tube… my dad inserted nano-machines into my body… so he could imprint Nicoli’s memories into **me**?” 

“Yup,” Seph-chan replies. “That’s pretty much it.” 

“My life sucks,” I mumbled. 

“ ** _Your_** life sucks?” he scoffs. “Not only was something **_very_** similar done to me… but I’m also the one who has to keep everything from falling apart here! Let’s switch places for a bit, and then you’ll know what ‘suck’ really means…” 

I don’t know how we ended up like this. All I remember is being rushed to the lounge bathroom by Shera and getting my face dunked under a running faucet. The rest is a blur, and now, my companion and I are sitting next to the bathroom door, leaning against the wall. He’s drinking saké straight from the bottle now. 

I’ve caught myself thrice for sucking my thumb. And I’m now wearing my shirt from this morning. 

I hope I haven’t given anyone a panty shot. 

“You mind answering three more questions?” I ask. 

“Sure,” he replies. 

“Good. For starters, are my parents… really my parents?” 

“Technically.” 

“Technically?” 

“Dr. Strife did use your mom’s ova… and then, he used his own…” 

I hold up my hand in a stop signal. “I get the idea.” 

Seph-chan chuckles at me. “Genetically manipulated, of course. You’re such a virgin—” 

Suddenly, he looks up, and a scowl appears on his face. 

“You moronic little _busybodies_!” he yells. 

I turn around just in time to see scampering feet. Bloody eavesdroppers. 

“Second question?” he asks. 

I slump against the wall and stretch my legs out. I feel… so damn tired. 

“Was everyone on this plane born in vitro?” I inquire. 

“Only the people in this lounge,” he replies. “Everyone else was born the old-fashioned way.” 

“Ah, good for them.” 

I glance at the bottle in his hand. 

“May I have some too?” I plead. 

“Ask again in five years, Princess,” he replies. 

“What? I can shoot people, but I’m not allowed to shoot saké? Mom let me drink Burgundy and Chianti all the time. Good for the heart…” 

We glare at each other for a minute or two, without blinking. He sighs and hands over the bottle. 

“Yeah, I guess you have a point.” 

I take a sip, and it’s the worse thing I’ve ever tasted in my life. I stick out my tongue. 

_I thought this would make me feel better,_ I muse. _It really **is** an acquired taste!_  

“Okay, last question,” I cough. “And you’d better be honest with me.” 

“Sure,” he replies. 

“Did my parents… really die from an accident?” 

“Why would you ask **that**?” 

“I don’t know. Perhaps, it’s because I’ve been through, seen, and learned so much freaky shite for the past couple of days… that I’m starting to think that someone came along and whacked them instead!” 

The amusement disappears from Seph-chan’s face, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. He takes the bottle back out of my hands and finishes it off in seconds. 

“That’s the story **I** was told,” he answers flatly. 

He doesn’t look me in the eye. That says it all. 

“Hooweee!” someone coos. 

Our eyes dart up, and we see Reno poking his head at the end of the hall. 

“So, you really don’t know a thing, do ya!?” he declared. 

“Get lost, Reno!” we yell in unison. 

And he quickly backs off. 

“My life sucks…” I whisper, spreading my hands over my face. 

Seph-chan nods in allowance. “Of course, it does.”

 


End file.
